Unspeakable
by hctiB-notsoB
Summary: Tony/Harry WARNING: general warning for language and rating appropriate content. "Attempting to woo a guy who can't talk is awkward enough, but Tony has other problems — like meddlesome coworkers, a manipulative goth, and an overprotective uncle."
1. Chapter 1

AN: Lord help us all, I cannot believe I'm writing this. Okay people, keep in mind, my one true love among the fandoms is Psych. I remained loyal for years, before the spark left our relationship. Out of desperation, I had an affair with Numb3rs (the Eppes brothers have yet to call me back), and I thought once I got it out of my system, that would be that. With the start of a new season, I had believed I could go back to my beloved. But every 'experience', shall we say, leaves me wanting for more. And you know what they say, once you start... So, now I've come to this. An affair with two fandoms at once. I'm ashamed.

Seriously though, I've never written for either NCIS or Harry Potter (though I do read in them often), nor have I ever written a WIP story. So, any and all help would be greatly welcomed. Perhaps someone would like to offer services as a BETA for this fic?

SPOILERS: Takes place mid-season 4 of NCIS, but Tony is not undercover. Also, goes AU circa mid-book 6 of the HP 'verse.

**WARNING:** This is a WIP, so the warnings will change from chapter to chapter. Please make sure to look for the warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Also, a general warning for language and rating appropriate content. The rating may also change as the story continues.

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

Was it callous of him to wish that people would keep their homicidal urges to themselves after five o'clock?

Really, a guy would be just as dead in the morning as he would be in the evening. But no, the night life always brought out the crazy in people. So, of course, just as Tony had been settling down for a Bogart marathon, dispatch just had to call about a dead marine at a nightclub. And to top it off, Gibbs must have broken his phone again, because no one had been able to get a hold of him.

"Yeah, this is turning out to be a great night," he mumbled as he walked up the steps to his boss's house. Tony gave a single customary knock before walking in. "Boss! We've got a—" He stopped short and stood in the entry way, staring at the unknown person in front of him.

The young man certainly didn't seem like an assailant, given he was carrying two plates of hot food and was staring back at him with a nonplussed expression. His dark, reddish brown hair was in a messy disarray and his exotic green eyes blinked up at Tony in confusion.

"Uh, hi. I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." The stranger gave him a nod. "I'm looking for Gibbs," he continued in an uncertain tone. He felt like he was missing something and the other man still hadn't said a word. Instead, Tony received a head jerk in a 'follow me' expression, before the stranger continued down the hallway and to the basement.

Gibbs was right where Tony had expected, working under the latest version of his boat. The stranger walked down the stairs, placed the plates on a bench, and then rapped his knuckles against one of the boat's ribs. Gibbs looked up with a curious expression, before he spotted Tony.

"DiNozzo?"

"Hey Boss, the Navy yard called us up for a case." For all his trouble, Tony got a grunt in response. He watched as Gibbs put his tools down and clipped on his gear, all the while keeping an eye on the stranger who had yet to be introduced and was calmly eating his food. "So, what did your cell do to piss you off this time?"

Gibbs sent the unknown young man a look and received a sheepish grin in return. "Tell McGee I'm going to need a new one."

Tony looked between the two and, yeah, he was definitely missing something here. Gibbs was way too comfortable with this kid, but Tony's first suspicion was immediately dismissed. The stranger was pretty hot, even with the weird black band around his neck. But, not only was the old Marine as straight as a sniper rifle, Tony really couldn't see his boss as a cradle robber. Which left...well, he had no idea what was left, but it was sure to be something good.

"Put the tools away for me, would ya?" Tony was shocked to hear Gibbs _ask_ the stranger.

The young man pointed to the untouched plate of food with a questioning look.

"Just wrap it up and stick it in the fridge. I'll eat it later."

The stranger made a grabbing motion, then pinched his fingers together and pressed them to his mouth a few times, all with a stern expression.

Tony felt like he was in the Twilight Zone, as he watched his boss give the kid a small smile. "Yeah, I'll pick up something to eat later," Gibbs responded with the fondly exasperated tone that Tony had only ever heard used on Abby.

He was pretty sure his feet were rooted to the spot as he stared at the stranger, even as Gibbs walked up the stairs past him. All he got in return for his leering was a raised eyebrow and a confused little wave. Tony smiled and waved back like an idiot.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony jumped, feet now completely uprooted. "On your six, Boss!" Halfway up the stairs, he turned to get one last look. "See ya later," he said with his best Italian drawl, which unfortunately came out a little higher pitched than he would have liked. The stranger tilted his head to one side, with a bemused little smile.

When he reached the car, Gibbs was already settled in the driver's seat. Tony buckled himself into the passenger side and prepared his stomach for the coming roller-coaster ride. In a very unsubtle approach, he began his questioning with, "So, uh, that guy was...?"

"My nephew," Gibbs answered with a familiar growl that told Tony he'd reached his conversation quota for the car ride.

* * *

"So, show of hands — who knew Gibbs had a nephew?"

The staccato clacking of McGee's typing stopped and Ziva looked up from the folder she was reading with raised eyebrows.

The case, thankfully, had been a quick solve. It was also a reminder for Tony to avoid pissing off any ex-lovers. No case, however, meant he was free to pursue another matter.

"He has a what?" The poor little probie looked as if he'd just been told the Computer Pixie didn't exist. Ziva leaned forward with a look of interest, her eyes flicking back and forth between them.

Tony stood and ran an expert eye through the bullpen. Once he was sure Gibbs wasn't about to materialize from the shadows, he sat back down and spoke in a stage whisper. "A nephew. As in an actual blood relative or something."

"No way."

"I swear on my SIG, McDoubtful. I met him when I had to pick up Gibbs the night before last."

He and Probie shared a look, before obviously coming to the same conclusion, while Ziva continued to watch them in confusion. McGee turned back to his computer and began typing at a furious pace. As McGee worked, Tony leaned back in his chair and picked up a folder, looking for all the world like he was simply reading a report, all the while inconspicuously keeping an eye out for their boss.

When she realized what they were doing, Ziva sent them both a reproachful look. "I do not believe this is a proper allocation of NCIS resources." She was quickly shushed by both men, before they went back to their current tasks.

After a tense minute, McGee's 'Ah ha!' of success had Tony rolling his chair eagerly to the younger agent's desk. He sent Ziva a smirk, which she pointedly ignored, when she quickly and not-so-casually made her way over as well. "Special Agent Gibbs' file," McGee stated with a satisfied voice. "Ducky is listed as his medical proxy, but he has another name on his emergency contact list—Evan Jameson. There's a notation here to contact him by text, voicemail, or email only." Ziva and McGee sent Tony a questioning look.

"Yeah, the kid didn't say a word when I was there. And he spoke to Gibbs in Sign. I couldn't tell if he was deaf or mute, though."

McGee turned back to his computer, brought up another program, and typed a bit more. "Evan Jameson, age twenty-six. Records say he showed up in the U.S. a few months shy of eighteen, where he was emancipated and given dual-citizenship for here and Britain. It'll take some more time and effort to look for anything on him in Britain's records."

"Why not simply ask?" Tony stared at Ziva as if she'd grown another head. "What?"

"Are you insane, woman? You can't just ask Gibbs questions like that!"

"Questions like what, DiNozzo?" Gibbs appeared from around the corner in a fairly ghost-like fashion.

They all backed away from the computer, like teenagers caught smoking cigarettes. "Ah, nothing Boss. Ziva was just wondering if you ever thought about settling down again?" Tony sent a smirk her way, grateful that she was the fall guy for once.

"I do not believe it to be healthy, remaining a bachelor for so long," Ziva said, playing along, and glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.

Gibbs settled himself behind his desk and sent her a look. "Been divorced three times, David, and I got a concussion out of one of them. I'm healthier as a bachelor."

While McGee looked to be doing his best to calm a racing heart, Tony and Ziva made their way back to their desks. Before going back to her own, Ziva leaned over to hiss into his ear. "I do not enjoy being made a scape-sheep. And it is not Gibbs that I meant for you to ask. After all, who do we know that has been his friend the longest?"


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Seriously, I have no idea where any of this is coming from, but I doubt I'll be able to keep up this pace, so please don't expect updates every day.  
Anyway, thank you for the support. I LOVE constructive cristicism, so please tell me your honest opinions about this. Especially because I'm feeling fairly paranoid, since I've never written anything like this before. If you see a mistake, tell me!

A heartfelt thank you to all those who reviewed, and even those 50 odd lazy bastards who put this on their alert or fav list without a review. ;)

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

"He has a what?" Abby's reaction was disturbingly similar to McGee's, but with more awe than desperate befuddlement, and less squeaking. "A real, live nephew? Like, you didn't imagine him, did you? Because, I mean, that happens to me sometimes. You know, I once dreamed Gibbs was the descendent of an illegitimate child of the Winchester line and was raised by contract killers, but he had such strong morals that he decided to use his powers for good and joined the Marines."

Tony idly wondered what they put in CafPows, because plain old caffeine couldn't cause that kind of damage, could it? McGee and Ziva just blinked. "No, Abby, he was a real, live nephew. And Gibbs was nice to him. As nice as he is to you. Maybe even nicer."

Abby's jaw dropped. "Holy mass spectrometer."

McGee nodded in complete agreement. "I know, right. We found out his name is Evan Jameson, but I couldn't get much more than that. The rest of his records are in Britain's system and I haven't been able to get in, yet."

"Why, Timmy, is this you hinting that you need my mad cyber skills?"

McGee smiled. "Maybe."

"You know, there's space in the techno supply closet if you two need a room," Tony teased. Ziva chuckled at the glares aimed his way. McGee's made him seem more like a puppy whose chew toy had been taken away. Abby's, however, was much more efficient.

"Tony, don't make me inform Gibbs that you've started an investigation behind his back."

He circled around the evidence table to lean next to her against the computer desk. "Abby, you are a very crucial key in this investigation. You," he continued in a grave and serious tone, "are beautiful, sweet, sexy, all knowing, and...have every man in this building wrapped around your dainty little finger. Mainly, Gibbs and Ducky." The smile he gave her at the end must have been the deal closer, he decided.

"How many panties has that mouth gotten you?" Abby narrowed her eyes and his smile widened. "You want to gang up on Ducky."

"Well, we can't ask Gibbs about his own life. That would get us nowhere."

"He has known Gibbs longer than anyone," Ziva explained. "And he certainly does not mind spinning thread."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yarn, Ziva. He doesn't mind spinning a yarn."

Abby's narrowed eyes became little more than slits, as she turned her focus back to him. "Why are you so interested?"

"Oh right, like no one else is curious?" Tony scoffed.

He really thinks there should be a Gibbs Rule about Abby's smile. "What's he look like?"

"What? That has nothing to do with this."

"He did look rather handsome," Ziva added.

"You saw a passport photo, nobody looks good in those."

"He's younger," McGee chimed in. "So he's Tony's type."

"Hey!"

Abby all but squealed. "Oh my God, you have a crush on Gibbs' nephew!"

"I do not! Now march your plaid covered butt to the morgue and get me my info!"

* * *

Ducky stared a bit warily at the united front the four of them presented. "A sibling? You want to know if Jethro has a sibling?"

"Yeah," Abby said with a sweet voice and wide, bright eyes that sucked the poor doctor in like a tornado. "You know, like a brother or sister? Most likely a sister. Probably younger, too."

"Well, no. No, I can't say I've ever heard of or seen a sister. Or any sibling, for that matter." Ducky furrowed his brow in confusion. "What on Earth is this about?"

A look passed between them, before the other three gazed at him, a silent 'go ahead' to share the information that began this whole expedition. "When I went to Gibbs' house a few days ago, I met his nephew."

"Nephew?"

"Yeah. He was a small guy, with short, dark hair and green eyes. Apparently doesn't speak, either."

"Oh, yes, yes, I know Evan," Ducky explained. "I was merely surprised that you had met him, Tony. He had already come to see mother and I last week. And, as often as he visits, he's usually here and gone so quickly that if you blinked you'd miss him," he chuckled.

"You knew?" Abby voiced their shock. "And you never said a word?"

"Well, why would I?" Ducky sighed at their astounded expressions. "Really now, why is it so surprising that Jethro has a nephew?"

"Because," Tony said, slightly outraged, "he's a piece of the great enigma that is Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He's someone from Gibbs' past and he proves that the man didn't just spontaneously generate from a battle field."

Ziva adopted a questioning look. "If Gibbs does not have any siblings, Ducky, then how is it he has a nephew?"

"Well, I believe they became related through one of Jethro's earlier marriages. I know they've been speaking through post since Evan was in his mid-teens. He came to visit for the first time when he was around eighteen, if I remember correctly. Jethro used his connections to get the boy citizenship so that he could come and go as he pleased. Evan visits every other month or so, but otherwise is often off traveling about."

"How did he loose his voice?" McGee asked.

"I haven't the faintest idea. The lad had long since been mute by the time I met him when he was twenty."

Tony was disappointed, but at least they had a starting point. "Okay," he pointed to Abby and McGee, "you two can start with checking Gibbs' marriage certificates and look through the maiden names, then."

"Now wait just one moment," Ducky began with a stern tone. "I will not allow you four to go scrounging through Evan's past, simply to satisfy your curiosity. That is very disrespectful."

Abby turned up the charm another notch. "But Ducky, it's not just for our curiosity. Honest, we have a really good reason."

"Is that so?" Ducky raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yeah," Abby nodded her head towards him. "Tony's got a huge crush on Evan."

"Oh dear."

* * *

The second time Tony met Evan, it was to say good-bye.

Their investigation, unfortunately, had to take a backseat because real crime beckoned their skills. All of their skills, really, and a hell of a lot of luck. Colonel Thompson had been found in an alley dumpster with three rounds in his heart. After two days, where no one went home, they eventually found evidence that the Colonel had discovered a smuggling ring among his subordinates. This, of course, meant they had a lot more work ahead of them.

Tony had just come back from his lunch run with Abby, who of course made him carry all the food, when he spotted the silent young man sitting at Gibbs' desk. Ziva and McGee were trying, and utterly failing, to subtly scope out the newly discovered element in their boss' life.

Evan stood when he saw their approach and Abby eagerly bounced over to him, her hands flying as she went. Whatever she said certainly brightened Evan's features, causing Tony to trip as he attempted to watch slim fingers form a response.

Abby giggled. "Yeah, we know. Don't be mad, but we kind of did a little digging to find out your name and stuff, once Tony told us about you."

Evan moved his fingers in a few short motions that made Abby sigh in disappointment.

"Aw, you're leaving so soon?"

Tony put the food on his desk and made his way over to them, while Evan created more gibberish that he couldn't understand. It was a surprise, however, when Abby blinked in confusion as well.

"Wait, what was that last part?"

Evan repeated the motions at a slower pace, so Tony could catch it too. The man made a fist with his right hand, his thumb tucked between his index and middle fingers. Then he held up his left index finger and with his right hand, open palm facing his chest, made a swooping motion in front of it. After the motion, he pointed right at Tony. Abby's eyes went wide and she clamped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles.

Tony looked to her in confusion. "What? What was that?" He looked back at Evan, who seemed very amused.

It took a moment for her to calm down, but when she did, Abby turned to him with pure mischief in her eyes. "Okay, well in Sign, it's really annoying to have to finger spell everyone's name. So instead, what people usually do is take a letter in a person's name and combine it with a word that describes them best."

Tony narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Yeah, and what was my name?"

Abby looked at Evan, who held an expression of perfect innocence. "T-pervert."

"What?" McGee and Ziva were laughing as well, at this point, and Tony had never felt so tongue-tied. "I'm not a— I— How can you— Pervert?"

Evan adopted a defensive expression and moved his hands about at a fast pace.

If anything, Abby became even more amused. "He said you kept leering at him when you were at Gibbs' house."

"I was not! I had no idea who you were, I was checking to see if you had any weapons on you."

As his hands moved, a single eyebrow rose in a disturbingly familiar expression and, if he could talk, Tony was sure Evan would have the same sarcastic tone as Gibbs.

"He said he was only wearing boxers and a tee-shirt, not very many places to check." Abby giggled again and Tony sent her an ineffective glare.

Tony opened his mouth to dispute his status as a pervert, but something behind them had apparently caught Evan's eye and put a large smile on his face. The young man gave them all a single wave, before walking away and heading down the hall. Tony turned to see Gibbs waiting by the elevators for his nephew. When Evan reached him, he turned to give them one more wave, before Gibbs put a hand on his back and guided him into the cart.

He watched as the metal doors closed behind the strange young man, and Abby laid her head on his shoulder comfortingly. "Cheer up, Tony. Ducky said he'll probably be back in another month or so."

"Yes, and if not, there are plenty of crabs in the ocean," Ziva added helpfully.

McGee sent him a sympathetic smile.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: So, as I'm sure you've noticed by now, I am a big fan of dialogue. Which, I've found, leads to an interesting experience when writing a mute character. I think I've found an effective solution, though. Also, I'm not fluent in ASL by any means, so attempting to translate it into English was rather awkward.  
And really people, why is Harry mute? You lot are the types to flip to the back of the book before you finish the second chapter, aren't you? There are some things I can clarify without destroying my flimsy plot, however.

Tony is bisexual, because he's a bit of a canon man-whore, so I've come to see him as an equal opportunist, and I'm about 85% convinced he's bisexual on the show as well. Evan is Harry, and his need for an alias will be explained later, like the mutism. And he has brown-red hair because of...well, genetics, actually. Seriously, I won't bore you with Punnett Square basics, but basically, if you've got one parent with black hair and one with red, because they're both dominant genes, usually a kid will end up with a hybrid hair color. I'm proof. I had black hair until my teens, when my hair started to gradually lighten to the red-brown I've got now.

And keep in mind, this story is strictly Tony's POV. Thus, as he learns and understands things, so do you (i.e. - the sign language in this chapter).

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

In the past six weeks since Evan's departure, Tony had been on five dates.

First, there had been Torrence 'call me Tori,' with short, dark hair and hazel eyes, who he met in the language section at Borders. At first, Tony had been more interested in the ASL books the man had been standing next to. But a few casual glances, a couple of flirty smiles, and they had a coffee date the next day. The coffee date led to the dinner date, after which Tori invited Tony back to his place for...well, more coffee. Of course, when someone invites a person inside for coffee at ten in the evening, they don't really mean coffee, but Tony was a lover of all types of...coffee.

After the coffee-sex was when Tony realized he'd been comparing hazel eyes with green, tan skin with cream, and an admittedly grating voice with silence. He made the customary 'It's not you, it's me' speech, got a shoe to the head for all his effort, and high-tailed it out of there like his ass was on fire.

Next, there was Monica, a feisty young thing who laughed and called him a pervert when she caught him checking out her backside. They had three dinners together, where they found out they had a lot in common. Tony let her do most of the talking, because she had this adorable little quirk where the more she spoke, the more she would move her hands. It was as if she was attempting to talk with both her hands and her mouth, and Tony found himself watching avidly as she would weave her tales.

Their third date had been the best so far, and Tony wasn't surprised when she asked him to come up to her apartment. After a rather inappropriate name at a very inappropriate moment, however, she kissed his cheek and kindly informed him there wouldn't be a fourth date.

Tony was beginning to notice a pattern.

* * *

"Gibbs! Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs!"

Everyone looked up to see their resident goth barreling down the hallway. "I think she means you, Boss." Gibbs glared at Tony, before apparently steeling himself for Abby's excitement.

"Gibbs, how could you? I can't believe you would hold out on me like this!" Abby exclaimed once she reached her target's desk, hands firmly on her hips and a petulant expression on her face.

Gibbs adopted what Tony secretly called his 'Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?' face, before coming to his most logical conclusion. "It's not even one, Abs. I haven't gotten your afternoon CafPow yet."

"What? No, I don't mean that. But you'd better double your order to make up for this!"

Their boss raised an expectant eyebrow.

Abby huffed. "Ducky said that Evan came back last night."

Tony's ears immediately perked up at the name. Probie claimed he'd developed a Pavlovian response, and he would probably be insulted if he knew what the hell a Pavlov was. Maybe it was something like a Klingon?

The second eyebrow joined the first at its higher altitude and Gibbs continued to stare at Abby. "And...?"

"And why isn't he here?" She asked increduously. "You just leave him home alone all day?"

"Well, no one told me it was Take Your Nephew to Work day. I'll make sure to bring him next year, Abby."

Abby glared and held out her hand. "Give me his phone number."

"Abby—"

"Nope, you got caught hoarding and now you have to share. Give me his number, I want to text him to meet me at the sub store." Gibbs gave a barely noticeable sigh before, as per usual, giving into her. He wrote the number down and held out the small slip of paper, which she happily snatched away. "I'll be back with lunch in an hour."

* * *

Lunch went a bit like this.

"For the last time, I was not leering at him!"

Silence permeated the bullpen as nearby agents stopped what they were doing to stare at Tony. There were a few awkward seconds where no one spoke, before he heard a strange hissing sound. He looked over to see Evan holding his quivering sides, face scrunched in laughter. The young man gasped, air rushing in and out of his lungs with minimal noise, and Tony wondered how it was he could miss something he's never heard.

"What are you looking at? Get back to work!" He snapped at the other agents, who quickly went back to their duties. "I wasn't," he mumbled, glaring at his teammates defensively.

"Relax, DiNozzo, I know you weren't," Gibbs commented with a smirk.

Tony brightened considerably, giving his boss a hopeful look. "You do?"

"Yep. Because if you were, I would have shot you."

He scanned his boss's features, trying to determine whether or not the older man was teasing him. When a Marine sniper claims that they'll shoot someone, however, they tend to mean it. Tony turned to Abby with a pleading expression.

The young goth clapped her hands to get everyone's attention, before turning back to Evan. "Anyway, like I was saying, we kept the name you gave Tony, but came up with others for you to call all of us."

_You have truly been teaching them since I left, _Evan signed to Abby with a questioning and pleasantly surprised look.

"Of course," Ziva said before taking a bite of her sandwich. _We have barely been speaking English, _she signed as she chewed.

Abby nodded. "Yeah, and I even convinced Gibbs to only answer them in Sign, too. So they've been learning a lot," she said with a wide smile.

_What is your name_, Evan asked Ziva.

_Z-knife_, she signed with a fairly evil smirk.

Evan looked at Gibbs, who shook his head. "Don't ask."

The young man then looked to McGee expectantly. Probie smiled and signed _M-computer_. "I was wondering, though, don't you have an AAC machine?"

Tony blinked. "That something from a sci-fi book, McNerd?"

"No, Tony, an augmentative and alternative communication machine. It's like a little computer that creates speech patterns. They're used for people who can't speak or communicate." McGee looked back to Evan, who nodded.

_For when I am in public. I avoid it when possible_, the young man signed.

"Why?" Tony asked. "Wouldn't it be easier to use that thing instead?"

_Machines do not like me_, Evan signed with a sheepish shrug. _Sometimes they explode_.

McGee's eyes widened and he slowly inched his way over to stand protectively in front of his desk, covering his computer.

"Okay, no offense, but you're never going in my lab."

Evan smiled at Abby, amused, before signing, _Your name_.

"Oh, right." She clenched her right hand into a fist and brought it to the side of her head, before bringing it down in a swooping motion. "Pigtails," she explained with a bit of a laugh. "And of course, we just call Gibbs boss."

Evan glanced at Gibbs with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous look, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to say something. "Don't even think about it," Gibbs growled, and again Tony heard Evan's breathy laugh. "And wasn't your boss expecting you to get in touch with him before 1900 Zulu time?" Gibbs added with a smirk.

The silent young man's eyes widened as he glanced at the clock and mentally calculated the time, before making a classic 'oh shit' face. He hurriedly gathered his things, waved goodbye to them and signed a quick _thank you for lunch_ to Abby.

Tony watched as, once again, Gibbs placed a protective hand on Evan's back and guided him to the elevators.

"At least this time you know you'll get to see him again," Abby said brightly. "And you have time to ask him out on a date now."

He stared at her as if she'd sprouted another head. "I have time to what?"

"Oh come on, you're totally crushing on him, Tony. And Evan would be perfect for you! He's cute and young—"

"Yeah, a decade younger!"

"—and quiet and mysterious—"

"Because he can't talk, Abby."

"—and he's Gibbs' nephew. It's perfect!"

"How is that a bonus? The man's already threatened to shoot me and I haven't even done anything."

"Tony, everybody knows you've got a man-crush on the boss," Abby said with mock sympathy.

He stared at her in disbelief. "What goes on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"Abby," McGee finally, thankfully, intervened. "Maybe you should leave this one alone. I mean, it is a pretty temperamental situation."

"One that would be sure to end badly," Ziva added.

"Exac—what?" Tony looked at her, offended. "How do you know?"

"Come on Tony, you're not really big on commitment," McGee said with a bit of a patronizing tone.

Ziva nodded in agreement. "And it would be a long-distance relationship, no? Ducky said Evan is only here for approximately two or three cumulative months out of a year."

"No," Abby said with a her head held high and stubborn set in her jaw. "Trust me, Tony, I know these things. Just one date. Just one, and if it's an utter failure then I'll deal with Gibbs for you and we'll never talk about it again."

Tony stared at the slip of paper she held out to him like it was a poisonous snake. "You're going to get me killed."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Sorry this one took a while to come out of my head. I've been preoccupied with my nephews, they're two and one years old...

Anyway, you finally get to learn a little bit about Evan and see the beginning of his and Tony's relationship. About damn time, yeah?

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

Anthony D. DiNozzo Jr. was not, by any means, a cowardly man. In fact, most people called him impulsive, rash, daring, spirited. Hell, his partner in Peoria had even called him pugnacious once. He really needed to remember to look that up in the dictionary one day.

But a coward? Never.

"Tony, you chicken shit."

His head hit Abby's desk with a thump and he let out a low, miserable moan. "I was hoping for a little more sympathy."

Abby looked at him innocently. "I'm sorry you're a chicken shit?"

He glared up at her. "I'm in fear for my life here, Abs!"

"Stop being so melodramatic." She rolled her eyes and leaned against her desk. "Gibbs isn't going to kill you if you ask Evan out on a date. You always take his teasing way too seriously. So, stop making excuses and text the guy."

"Abby," he spoke slowly as if explaining to a small child, "the man was a Marine sniper. He killed for a living. I doubt an overprotective sniper's got too many reserves about shooting me for tainting his beloved nephew!"

Abby grabbed his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks, and stared down at him with narrowed eyes. "Tony," she said in a deadly serious voice, "he could be your soul mate."

He gave her as perplexed a look as he could, while his face resembled a cross between a chipmunk and a fish. "Abby, I've only met him three times in two months. And, two of those times I couldn't understand a thing he said."

"I've told you, Tony. I know these things."

She, thankfully, let go of his face and Tony hesitantly stretched his jaw in an attempt to get blood back in his cheeks. "Besides, he probably thinks I'm more of a spazz than Probie."

"You're being uncharacteristically insecure."

Tony shrugged and avoided Abby's interrogative gaze. He lasted all of a minute before breaking. "I'm charming, Abby. Or at least I'm supposed to be, right? But, I can't—with him, I just—okay, first time I met him, I tried my Italian drawl. I mean, I'm Italian, I'm supposed to have an Italian drawl. But instead, I squeaked. I squeaked, Abby! Second time, he calls me a pervert and instead of coming up with something witty, I stutter! And then I had no idea what his AC machine was!"

"AAC."

He waved his hands about emphatically. "You see?"

Abby shook her head and stared at him in awe. "Wow."

"What?"

"You've got it bad," she laughed.

* * *

In the end, Abby got tired of waiting for him and took matters into her own hands.

The next day, she had apparently convinced Evan to come down for an official NCIS tour, without telling Gibbs. So he couldn't hog his nephew, she had explained to Tony later. Of course once she spotted Tony, who'd been coming back from lunch, Abby coincidentally remembered that she had work to finish before Evan had even been shown the first floor.

Tony wondered if all women were naturally manipulative or if it was just an Abby trait.

"And this is where Ducky works. ...Are you sure you wanna see this, because most people tend to avoid the morgue. It's fine if you want to skip it, you know?" Evan shook his head with an exasperated look. Maybe because Tony had asked the same question twice before as they'd walked to the morgue. Tony looked around the cold, sterile area for Ducky, hoping that a familiar face would make the dead bodies less traumatizing. "Palmer! Where's Ducky?"

The young M.E. assistant started, half turning over a medical tray and dropping the clipboard full of paperwork he'd been filling out. "Uh, he—out. He's out. Lunch break, uh, Agent DiNozzo." Palmer attempted to right his glasses, while glancing up at them and hurriedly stabilizing the tray of sharp instruments.

Evan took one look at Palmer, before turning to Tony and asking if he was _touched in the head_.

Tony saw Palmer looking at him curiously for a translation. "Yes, this is the assistant that you've heard so much about from Ducky."

_Not what I asked_, Evan signed with a furrowed brow.

"I agree, those glasses do make him look distinguished. Palmer! Get over here and introduce yourself, stop being rude."

Palmer made his way across the morgue, looking positively delighted, and eagerly shook Evan's hand. "Hello. I am Doctor Mallard's assistant, Jimmy Palmer," he said with an obnoxiously loud voice and over-enunciated words.

"He's mute, Palmer, not deaf."

Palmer's face turned into a tomato. Evan smiled politely with his lips and glared at Tony with his eyes. "So, you must be the nephew that everyone's been talking about?"

Evan nodded and Tony answered, "Yeah, this is Evan Jameson. Gibbs' nephew."

Palmer shook his head in half-disbelief. "Wow. I mean, wow, you're actually related to the Special Agent Gibbs. You know, there was a bet going around that he's actually a cyborg that the agency created. But with you here now, well obviously I've lost that bet. Unless the agency just brought you in as alibi or something...and I should probably stop talking now, sorry."

Evan gave him a look that clearly begged Tony to change the subject, so he pointed to the cadaver on the nearest table and asked Palmer, "So, what's the story with Ducky's latest patient?"

"Hm? Oh! Yeah, um, Private Jones was found in a parking lot by his car with his throat slit. Poor guy," Palmer gave the body a sympathetic smile, before brightening. "At least it was quick though! Went deep enough to sever his left carotid and jugular."

Tony gave the assistant a look that went completely unnoticed, before glancing over at Evan. The silent man appeared a bit green around the gills and was tugging uncomfortably at the ever-present black band around his neck. "Okay, I think that's enough for us Autopsy Gremlin. Evan here still needs to see the rest of the building."

He ignored Palmer's stuttered farewells and guided Evan through the automatic doors, to the elevator, all the while praying Evan wouldn't vomit or pass out and give him a very awkward situation to explain to Gibbs. Evan took a few deep breaths through his nose and sent Tony a grateful look. _No place left for the tour but Abby's lab. She says I am not allowed_, the young man signed with a curious glance.

"There's a coffee shop across the street from the Navy Yard. It's practically a part of NCIS." Tony gave what he hoped was a casual shrug.

Evan huffed a laugh, but nodded his consent. Tony breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It technically wouldn't be a date, but hopefully it would be enough to get Abby off his back. And if any one saw them...well, it was just some coffee between potential friends, right? Nothing that Gibbs needed to know about.

* * *

It was amazing. Tony really couldn't get his head around it. He'd never heard of such a thing, and yet it had apparently been happening right under his nose for so many years.

"They serve tea?" Tony stared at Evan's steaming mug in complete befuddlement.

Evan raised an eyebrow at Tony's repeated question.

"I mean, it's a coffee shop. But they serve tea?"

The young man sipped his drink with an unamused look.

Tony figured it was about time to change the subject. "So, you like tea then?" He wondered if maybe Abby had been terribly wrong. He wasn't entirely sure he could be with someone who didn't drink coffee. Really, the man was Leroy Jethro Gibbs' nephew and he didn't drink coffee?

_I am from Britain. Tea time is not only in films_, Evan signed.

"Oh, right." Tony had forgotten that part, to be honest. Without hearing an accent constantly, the fact that Evan was from another country tended to slip his mind. "So, where are you from in Britain?"

Evan thought for a moment, before signing, _Scotland and England_. At Tony's questioning look, he elaborated. _I was born in Scotland, but lived in England until eleven. Then went to boarding school all year in Scotland. Now I work in England_. Evan hesitated before adding, _But I travel a lot for work_.

"What do you do for work?"

Again, Evan hesitated, setting off the majority of Tony's detective instincts, before signing something Tony couldn't understand. The young man put his right index finger to the side of his head, twirled it, and ended with his index finger pointing up and middle finger against his skull.

"I have no idea what you just said."

Evan sighed silently in frustration. _I do not know how to say_, he signed, then waved his hand quickly as if he were erasing his words from the air. He took a pen from his pocket and grabbed a napkin. 'I'm a diplomat,' he wrote.

Tony blinked in confusion. He wanted to ask how a person who couldn't speak was able to negotiate relations between countries, but he also didn't want to offend Evan. Instead, he focused on a much more important question. "Wait. You're Gibbs' nephew, but you work in politics and don't drink coffee?" Tony asked in an incredulous tone.

Evan did nothing more than roll his eyes.

"So, have you ever met Roger Moore?"

_Who?_ Evan signed with a curious look.

Tony did his best to keep his jaw from dropping. "Roger Moore. English actor Roger Moore, played the British spy James Bond from 1973 to 1985." He stopped, hoping to see a light of recognition in Evan's eyes, but was sorely disappointed. "He starred in seven films—Live and Let Die, The Man With the Golden Gun, The Spy Who Loved Me, Moonraker, For Your Eyes Only, Octopussy, and A View to a Kill!"

Evan continued to stare at him.

"Were you raised in a forest?"

_Kind of_, Evan admitted with a sheepish shrug. _My school was very isolated._

"This just isn't right," Tony shook his head in disbelief. "No man should live without James Bond in his life."

Evan merely gave another hissing laugh and calmly sipped his tea, paying no mind to Tony's growing horror.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I think this will be one of my favorite chapters. I hope you enjoy it as well. Also, some of the Drama finally comes to fruition in this story's Romance/Drama genres. Very little, though. Still, I get to stick up my first warning, as lame as a warning as it may be.

**WARNING:** for sensitive subject matter and derogatory terms.

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

"You did what?" Ziva hissed at him over the dead body, sketch pad forgotten.

"It was just coffee, Ziva."

McGee stared at him, wide-eyed. "Coffee? You had _coffee_ with him?"

Tony rolled his eyes while McGee inched away from him as if he'd just told them he had an infectious disease, glancing warily between him and where Gibbs was interviewing the PFCs. "Not that kind of coffee, McPerv. Jeez, it was the middle of the day. I just took him to the coffee shop across from the Yard. And, technically he had tea."

"They serve tea?"

Tony nodded at him. "Weird, right?"

"Stop beating the bush! You had coffee with Gibbs' nephew!"

"Around, Ziva. You don't actually beat the bush, you beat around it," McGee informed the Israeli.

Ziva's brow furrowed in confusion. "That makes no sense."

McGee just shrugged. Tony snapped a picture of them in annoyance and they glared at him through the flash. Sometimes, he wondered what the guys in Evidence must think of the photos they find on the crime scene cameras. "That's not the point. English idioms and misleading coffee shops aside, the point is I don't know what to do. He works in another country, he's related to my boss, and we have nothing in common. He's practically the Isolde to my Tristan," he complained in a dejected voice.

"Was it not decided that it would be in your best interest to _not_ pursue Evan?" Ziva raised an eyebrow.

"Abby won't let it go. She's convinced that I'm soul mates with someone who's never seen a Bond movie and drinks tea. She dragged me into it!"

"She dragged you into the coffee shop?"

"...Well, no. That was my idea. But she manipulated the whole situation."

"I'm sure Gibbs will take that into consideration," McGee chimed in.

Ziva finished her sketch of the scene and turned to Tony. "Perhaps Abby is simply a believer in...how do you say — opposites attack, yes?"

McGee looked up from the trash he was bagging and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Finding no moral support from his partners, Tony stared down at their silent companion and snapped another picture. The poor guy's head was bashed in and his face was mangled beyond recognition. He wondered how much longer he'd be able to keep his intentions hidden from Gibbs, and if he'd be able to have an open casket wake once his boss was done with him.

* * *

"DiNozzo!"

Tony jerked awake, almost tipping his chair over before he regained his balance and ran his eyes wildly around the room. They finally settled on Gibbs, next to Tony's desk, looking dressed and refreshed as if he hadn't spent the night at his desk like everyone else, calmly sipping from a styrofoam coffee cup. "You know, they serve people tea," he said, only half spitefully.

Gibbs stopped mid-sip, glancing at his cup, before giving a minute shrug and taking another gulp. To Gibbs, coffee was coffee was coffee, apparently. The man hung out with Ducky and Evan too much — no loyalty to American culture. "Where's McGee?"

"Sleeping with Abby in the lab." Gibbs gave him the look that often came with his explanation of Rule #12. "What? Nerds need lovin' too, Boss."

He had been fully expecting the slap, but that didn't keep his head from jerking forward. "You guys are never skipping another sensitivity seminar."

"Right, because you're HR's best friend," he muttered, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his skull.

"What was that, DiNozzo?"

"I think they were working the email end. They said they found some hate mail on what was left of Corporal Kelly's hard drive," he hurriedly explained, sending Ziva a mocking look while she snickered from behind her desk. She at least had the decency to look a little worse for wear, even if she had been awake before him.

"Hate mail?"

Tony stood, grabbed the remote off the filing cabinet and moved next to Gibbs in front of the plasma. He brought up one of the letters Abby had sent and zoomed in for Gibbs to read. "Corporal Kelly was in the closet, but hadn't closed the door all the way, Boss."

"Someone in his unit found out he was gay." It wasn't a question, but Tony nodded in agreement anyway, doing his best to forget the words he'd read.

Ziva joined them to inspect the letter. "This makes it an official hate crime, yes?"

"If we can prove it was the motive," Tony reminded her.

"Only solid lead we've got. DiNozzo—"

"Background check on the unit, look for personal complaints. On it, Boss."

"Ziva, with me. We're gonna go talk to that Sergeant again." Tony watched as Gibbs and Ziva collected their gear and made their way to the elevator. "Wake up McGee and Abby, get them to find the origin of those emails," Gibbs tossed at him over his shoulder.

Tony plopped back down in his chair with a sigh and stared at the letter on his computer screen. The words 'queer' and 'fag' occurred at an obscene frequency and seemed to jump out at him. He bit back a groan at the tension headache he felt building and got to work.

Hate crimes were the worst.

* * *

The second good-bye made his chest ache more than he could describe.

It took two more days and a sickening amount of string pulling by Gibbs, but they were finally able to get an arrest warrant for Sergeant Johns. Gibbs was in interrogation, with Ziva observing, and McGee was helping Abby organize the last of the evidence. So, Tony was alone when Evan stepped out of the elevator and onto the third floor. He watched as Evan looked about, before green eyes locked solidly on him and the young man made his way towards Tony with a purposeful stride.

_Hello_, Evan signed.

"Hey," he gave a tired smile. "Gibbs isn't here. He's with a suspect."

Evan just smiled and shook his head. He seemed to hesitate, before signing, _I have a new assignment. I leave tomorrow_. Tony felt his stomach plummet. _Would you like to eat_, Evan continued. _With me_, he added, when Tony did little more than stare.

"Now?" Evan nodded. "You want to have lunch?" Evan nodded again. "You're asking me to have lunch with you, now?"

Evan cocked his head to the side curiously. _Your answer is no_.

"No!" The silent man looked a bit startled at his vehement denial. "I mean, no, my answer is _not_ no. I would love lunch. Like lunch — I would like lunch. With you, I mean. I—" Tony stopped and took a deep, calming breath. "Yes, I would like to have lunch with you."

_Are you well_, Evan signed, looking half amused and half worried.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine, it was just a bad case."

Evan gave him yet another look that was disturbingly reminiscent of Gibbs.

"It was a hate crime; those are always hard to deal with." Evan adopted a look of comprehension and for some reason, Tony felt the absurd need for full disclosure. "They're hard to deal with, because I'm a bisexual federal agent."

_Could not guess_, the young man signed with a sardonic smile.

Tony blinked. "You know where I'm going with this, right?"

Evan's grin widened. _You are not subtle_.

"Please don't tell Gibbs."

Tony heard Evan's increasingly familiar breathy laugh and felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine. _You are scared_, he signed with a questioning look.

"Of course I'm scared! Have you met your uncle?" Evan laughed again. "And I'm kind of scared I'm going to screw this up. Everybody else thinks I'm going to screw it up, too."

_You are honest_, he signed casually.

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "There's that, yeah. I'm also pretty hot. And charismatic. Well, when I'm not around you, I am."

Evan smiled at him. _Try friends first, then see if there is more_.

"Friends, right. I can do that. So, lunch?"

The young man jerked his head towards the elevators in agreement and waited while Tony gathered his things.

"So, you're an English politician. Are you sure you've never met Roger Moore? I mean, maybe you just didn't know who he was at the time."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I'm terribly sorry about the delay, but I swear it wasn't my fault. I've switched internet providers and, of course, there were complications. I was without internet for two weeks. In the end, the service is good, but Comcast really needs to get a better process.

Also, in my experience, most men love to piss their name in the snow and most women wish they could.

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

When the first letter came, it was nothing short of a surprise.

After their shared lunch, they had parted ways with the promise to keep in touch during this assignment. When Evan had said he would write, however, Tony had really been expecting an email or even a few text messages, despite the other man's evident technophobia. What he hadn't been expecting was a thick cream envelope in his mailbox a week later, with a very odd return address that told him he'd apparently be sending his letters to a phone booth in London.

_"Dear Tony,_

_Please ignore the peculiarity of the return address. While I am on assignment, my post must travel through a secure channel. Your letters will have to be sent to my workplace in England first, where they'll be forwarded to me. I can't tell you exactly where I will be stationed, but I can tell you I'm currently traveling through Euro-Asia. I think I'm somewhere within the Ural District at the moment, but I'm not certain. I may have stopped paying attention around the Ukraine. I would say that Russia seems exceptionally frigid this time of year, but from past experience, I know it tends to be that way often. Really, what good is all this snow if it's too cold to drop your pants and write your name in it?_  
_  
Either way, I should reach my destination in just a few days. So, I'll have something more interesting to write you next time. At the moment, I'm stuck on a train next to a man who's seen a plate too many of chips and refuses to budge up, so the view isn't the best._

_I hope to hear from you soon,_  
_Evan_"

"Okay, you're officially one of the strangest people I've ever met. Secret postal systems and classified assignments?" Tony muttered to himself as he got out a sheet of paper and a pen. "How MI6 of you, Evan."

* * *

Tony stared down at the keyboard in complete focus. His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he concentrated on his task, carefully tracing the grooves between the keys with the tip of the Superglue bottle. He blatantly ignored Ziva, who was leaning against McGee's desk, observing and hopefully serving as a lookout.

"You are in desperate need of a spouse."

He gave her a fairly Gibbs-like grunt in response.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her smirk. "Oh, I almost forgot. Evan said he wanted to be just friends."

"For now," he hissed at her, finally looking up from his task to glare at her and the triumphant quirk of her lips. "He said we'll be friends for now and then see if there could be more. Besides, he's not even here. He's somewhere in Asia, according to his last letter." He directed his glare back at the offensive technology and continued his destruction via adhesive.

"And how long ago was that?"

He added a particularly large glob of glue around the D. "Twelve days."

"Ah. So, if he is not here and you are just friends — for now," she quickly amended when he shot her another look, "then, why have you been ignoring the ringing phone on your desk all morning?"

As if on cue, a screeching mockery of "Devil In Disguise" came from his cell, assaulting his ear drums. "Because I should know better than to ask out a girl named after a Greek god."

"You are against Pagan religions?"

"No, but any parent who named their kid Andromeda was either high during the pregnancy or a hippy. Neither says much for her mental health."

"Andromeda was a princess, not a goddess — and I really need that file, Tony. I can not finish my Mossad report without it."

He raised an eyebrow at her in confusion, before his eyes widened in understanding. Tony quickly shoved the glue in one of McGee's drawers and turned around to search through the filing cabinet with a purposeful look. "Uh, I can't find it Ziva. Are you sure it's not somewhere in your desk?"

There was moment of silence and out of the corner of his eye he could see their boss leaning against one of the office dividers, running an expert eye over the scene. His spine stiffened in expectation, before he let out a low groan when Gibbs' hand met the back of his skull. "Clean it up, DiNozzo."

Ziva snickered at his misfortune, until she was given a smack of her own. "Ow!"

"Stop warning him," Gibbs glared at her.

He sighed and opened the bottom drawer, where McGee kept the nail polish remover. Taking out the bottle and cotton swabs, he wondered if Gibbs knew that he wouldn't actually be able to clean out the glue from between the keys. A well aimed glare told him that his boss either didn't know or simply didn't care.

"Is it just me or has Gibbs been a little liberal with the tough love lately?" He whispered to Ziva, once he sure their boss was busy checking his voice messages.

"Hm," Ziva hummed in agreement. "Perhaps it has been some time since he has heard from Evan, as well?"

Tony ignored the tightness in his chest that came with that thought.

* * *

"Hey Ducky, how long has Evan been a diplomat?"

The doctor looked up from the decomposing corpse that was their latest victim. "Hm? Evan? Oh, I believe he began working in the Diplomatic Service not long after I had first met the lad."

Tony did a quick mental calculation and blinked in confusion. "Wait a second, Ducky. They made him a diplomat at twenty?" He asked skeptically.

"Yes, well, I believe there were extenuating circumstances. He had already been involved with the government for a number of years, as well, if I remember correctly."

"Huh." Tony snapped a few more pictures when Ducky lifted the body to show what looked to be the exit wounds of a couple of bullets. "Well, he can't be that high up though, right? I mean, he's still pretty young, so they've probably only got him as an attaché or a secretary, at most." He looked up from his camera at the M.E. for confirmation.

"I'm really not sure. Evan doesn't like to speak about his work when he is between assignments. I've known the boy for over half a decade and I quickly realized he's as hard a nut to crack as his uncle." Ducky looked up from the corpse and locked Tony in an intent gaze. "Is this line of questioning leading somewhere, Tony?"

Tony felt an unfortunate flush stain his cheeks. He did a quick scan of the beach to make sure Gibbs was still walking the perimeter, before kneeling down next to Ducky. "Uh, no. No, it's just that I haven't gotten a letter from Evan in about two weeks. Normally, I get one about once a week, so..." He trailed off in embarrassment.

"Ah," Ducky gave him a knowing smile. "You wanted to know his rank to see how much danger he could be in, then?"

Tony shrugged and studiously scrolled through the camera's memory.

Ducky chuckled. "I assure you, Tony, Evan is more than capable of protecting himself. You can't have honestly expected any nephew of Gibbs' to have gone without any training. The boy needs it too, with how much trouble he attracts."

"Trouble? He gets into trouble a lot?" And if his voice had taken on a slightly anxious tone, the doctor mercifully didn't mention it.

Ducky laughed again. "Oh, if the stories he has regaled mother and I with are even half as extravagant as they seem, then he's a worse magnet than you are. Really, between the two of you, it's a wonder Jethro doesn't have heart problems."

"That's what the bourbon's for," Gibbs muttered from over Tony's shoulder, where he'd been standing for who the hell knew how long.

He let out a startled noise and jerked into a standing position, hoping he didn't look as guilty as he felt. Tony saw Ducky watching in carefully hidden glee and wondered if any of the others knew their medical examiner was a blatant sadist. Gibbs looked like he had a comment right on the tip of his tongue, but thankfully, Palmer's arrival with the gurney and body bag made Gibbs keep his peace.

"This guy in crackerjacks, Duck?" Gibbs asked, squinting at the old and torn clothing covering the body.

"Hm, looks like. However, the gold's too faded to tell how many stripes he had and his badges are missing. Poor fellow's been in that water for a long time, it seems."

"No TOD for me either, then?"

"Not until we get him home, Jethro." Ducky huffed in annoyance as he waited, while Palmer unsuccessfully attempted to get the body bag to lay flat on the windy beach, before finally moving around the cadaver to help his assistant. "Preliminary cause of death, though, looks to be two rounds to the chest and one to the head."

Gibbs grunted in displeasure. "Triple tapped."

"Yes, the Mozambique technique. It originated in Africa during the '50s and '60s, I believe, where inferior pistols and revolvers were quite the problem. It became popularized in America by Lt. Col. Jeff Cooper in the mid 1970s, after hearing about a student's experience in Mozambique. It's taught to the vast majority of law enforcement, now more commonly know as the Failure Drill," Ducky rambled to an only mildly interested Palmer and an oblivious corpse.

* * *

"McGee arrested Seaman Collins, Boss, but he lawyered up." Ziva threw a paper ball at him when he pointed his finger at Probie accusingly, while Gibbs stalked over to McGee.

Probie gave him as vicious a glare as he could. Probably because Gibbs hated it when you allowed a suspect to lawyer up. Or maybe because he was still pissed about his ruined keyboard and the documents that had gotten stuck together when Tony had shoved the open glue bottle in his desk.

Gibbs gave McGee the stare that usually accompanied Rule #18, which demanded that the target give Gibbs a reason not to shoot them. McGee's already fair complexion paled even further, but he walked to the plasma with only a stumble or two and brought up the files on their suspect.

"Seaman Apprentice Adam J. Collins," McGee began with a bit of a squeak. "He was arrested five years ago for assault and battery. It was his second offense, so he was given the options of ten years in prison or three years in the service. Our victim was his commanding officer. According to personnel reports and witness statements, they really didn't get along and he made it clear during his tour that he was not there willingly."

"Explains why he never made it past an E-2 pay grade," Gibbs muttered in agreement and McGee breathed a sigh of relief.

"Guy comes from money. He thinks he's going to buy his way out, Boss." Tony shared a look with Gibbs and smirked, knowing how quickly his boss was going to put those thoughts to rest.

"Yes, he was very much a cock." The three men turned from the plasma to stare at Ziva, and McGee developed a very unflattering blush. "Rooster, yes?" She put her hand on top of her head, fingers spread, mimicking a rooster's crest, but they remained utterly confused. "Arrogant," she exclaimed in an exasperated voice.

There was a collective 'Ah ha!' moment. "You mean he was cocky, Ziva," McGee explained.

She waved away the differentiation with an annoyed huff, muttering about American idioms...or American idiots, he wasn't quite sure.

"I don't know, McGee. I think I like her description better," Tony laughed, and then jerked forward as he received what had to have been his seventh slap that day. Apparently, Gibbs was going for a new record.

Just as he was about to make a remark that would have given him slap number eight, they heard a loud _thump_ and a shriek. They turned to see Abby clutching an evidence bag to her chest, staring wide eyed at a large and intimidating owl that was flying outside the office window. Tony could swear the thing was looking through the glass, gazing at them.

"I told those window washers not to use that Streak Free Windex," McGee muttered.

Tony stared at him with a raised eyebrow, but Ziva hummed in agreement. "I've seen the commercials."

Without a word, Gibbs stalked to the window, seeming to purposely linger in front of it and the bird, before walking to the elevator. It must have been Tony's imagination, but it looked like the owl's eyes followed their boss, before flying off to the side of the building.

Abby walked over to them with a questioning look, but Tony just shrugged. "Anyone else know the boss was an owl whisperer?"

"Maybe it's a predator of the sky, stalker of the night kind of thing," Abby said with a look of serious contemplation.

Sometimes, Tony wondered how it was they ever got around to saving lives.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Hey, I meant to get this up on Sunday, sorry. But, good news! You get to learn one of Evan's secrets! Really though, I hadn't thought I was being all that subtle. Most of you probably already figured it out.

And would you find it odd if I told you the chapter was written in my bathtub? I wasn't actually taking a bath, I was just...sitting in my tub. I find it very comforting in there. (Freud would probably have something to say about that.) Seriously though, take a blanket and pillow and go lay in your tub. It's great!

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

Tony's leg bounced up and down against the stool and he clutched his beer bottle in a vice grip. He kept his eyes locked firmly on the top of the kitchen island, only occasionally straying up to Gibbs' back. It was hard to keep himself from flinching every time the frying pan scraped against the stove top or Gibbs' own beer clacked against the counter. He wasn't sure if it was good or not that Gibbs was deliberately not pointing out his overt signs of weakness.

The owl incident had remained frustratingly unexplained, as was customary with their boss, despite Abby's wide, beguiling eyes. After almost eagerly breaking Seaman Collins in interrogation, the rest of the day passed with little to no words from Gibbs. "My place tonight. Bring beer," was all he'd said to Tony at the end of the day, as he shrugged on his coat and made his way to the elevators.

Tony had stared wide-eyed at his boss's retreating figure, before turning to his equally confused teammates. McGee promised to look for his body if he didn't show up for work and Ziva offered a muttered "Behatzlacha."

Thus was how Tony found himself seated in Gibbs' kitchen, wondering if he'd unknowingly done something to royally piss him off. Many people didn't know Gibbs had the capability to be passive aggressive. Tony was not a member of that lucky majority. Gibbs stabbed the steak in the pan to flip it and Tony wondered if he should have been keeping a closer eye on things, in case there were any special ingredients added to the food. He still wasn't quite sure what the intention was here. Interrogation via meat and potatoes? A high protein diet could be killer on the digestive system.

Gibbs plated the food and set them on the island before taking a seat on the stool next to Tony. He handed over a second bottle of beer and—subtly, he hoped—waited until Gibbs had taken the first bite before digging in to his own country dinner. They ate and drank in silence for a few moments, before Gibbs shifted and reached into his pocket. Tony tensed, half expecting the worst.

A cream envelope was tossed onto the counter between them, Tony's name written in the center of it in a very familiar scrawl. Tony's heart rate doubled. "You want to tell me what's going on between you and my nephew."

Tony couldn't hear a question mark anywhere in that sentence. "Friends. Just friends. Practically pen pals, really. I mean, we've only had lunch. And coffee." Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Normal coffee, not the other type of coffee."

"So, you've already had two dates?" Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him.

"No, no. We've just gone out. Well, not _out_ out, you know, just...out. We're just friends," he reaffirmed.

Gibbs nodded and took a long drag from his bottle. "But, you don't want to be just friends."

Again, Gibbs turned the question into a statement and Tony hid a wince. This was dangerous territory here. Actually, the whole damn conversation was like walking with unfriendlies, but this was navigating through a minefield. "Uh...maybe?" Tony followed Gibbs' example and finished off his bottle.

Gibbs chewed a piece of his potato thoughtfully. Tony had lost his appetite. "How many letters have you gotten?"

Tony did a quick mental count. "Well, it's been about eleven weeks, so I think I've got like nine." The fact that he kept Evan's letters in the same drawer as his 'Hustler' magazines really wasn't something that needed to be mentioned.

"Okay."

McGee better keep his promise. His lawyer knew to contact Abby; she'd take care of all the funeral arrangements. Tony hoped Gibbs didn't get caught, he didn't want Evan to... "Okay?"

Gibbs nodded and took another bite of his steak. "Okay, DiNozzo."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that.

* * *

"_Tony,_

_I'm sorry about the delay but we ran into a bit of trouble over here. I can't explain the situation, but I promise that I am perfectly fine. I hope you're all right, as well. Because of the difficulties, I had to use another channel for my letters and only Uncle Jethro is authorized for deliveries. I asked him not to bother you too much, but I doubt he listened._

_This will be my last letter, also. I should be back in the States by the end of the week, so you don't need to write back._

_So, where was I last time? We were about half way through my third year of boarding school, right? Well, everyone had been acting strangely around me. Hushed conversations that stopped when I walked by, whispers, pointing, all that sort. Turns out, my Godfather was a convict who'd recently escaped from prison. But I promise you, it's not what it sounds like..._"

Tony put the letter down and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he'd read right. He should probably ask Ducky if he could be prone to anxiety issues.

* * *

"Coffee, Boss!" Tony held the cup up like the Olympic torch as he walked from the elevators.

He heard Gibbs snort. "I already said I wasn't going to shoot you, DiNozzo."

"Still, never hurts to kiss up to the teacher. One venti reg," he stated proudly, placing the cup on Gibbs' desk.

"A what?" The marine eyed the coffee dubiously.

"A venti regular." Gibbs' stare demanded an explanation. "A regular black coffee, Boss."

"Yeah, I got that part, DiNozzo. What the hell is the venti?"

"Oh, that just means it's the largest size they've got."

Gibbs glared. "Then why isn't it called a large?"

Tony scratched at the back of his head nervously, wondering if that was a rhetorical question or not. "Well, because it's a venti. See, it's a twenty ounce cup and venti means twenty in Italian, so..."

Judging by the look he was getting, Tony guessed the question probably hadn't required an answer. Thankfully, Elvis chose that moment to interrupt and Tony fished out his cell phone, holding back a sigh of gratitude for whoever was calling. The gratitude lasted until he saw his screen displaying 'ANDY' in bold, accusing letters. Tony scowled at his phone and quickly silenced it.

"Not going to take that?" Gibbs asked while Tony settled himself at his desk.

"Nah, it's just Andromeda."

Gibbs' brow furrowed. "Like the constellation?"

"I thought Ziva said she was princess?" Tony shook his head. "I don't know. Either way she's annoying the hell out of me."

"So, she's the one that's been calling you for the last two days." There was something dangerous in his boss's tone that made Tony tense.

"Uh...yeah. I asked her out a couple of days ago." Tony was tempted to stall the conversation until there were more witnesses about. He wondered if he should mention the, hopefully temporary, friends only policy that Evan had implemented. It probably wouldn't do him any good.

"And?"

"And she got pissed when I didn't take her up on her...offers." Tony cleared his throat nervously.

Gibbs nodded with an oddly pleased expression and Tony blinked in confusion.

* * *

Tony stood in his doorway, staring at his surprise visitor, not quite sure what he should do. Hug? He felt like he wanted to hug him, but were they at that level yet? A handshake? Or hell, maybe a wave?

_Invite_, Evan signed with a smile.

"Oh! Yeah, right. Come on in. It's good to see that you're in one piece."

Evan shrugged as he walked inside. _Trouble was nothing_.

"Yeah, Ducky said you've had plenty of experience with trouble before."

_Asking again_, Evan signed with narrowed eyes and a suspicious look.

Tony laughed, unrepentant. "I'm an investigator. You can't expect me to leave a mystery like you alone. I didn't bug him with too many questions, honest."

Evan gave what seemed to be a slightly nervous laugh and scratched at the back of his head, bringing Tony's attention to the wild mop of hair. It looked as if Evan hadn't had a haircut in since before he left three months ago. He was kind of surprised the young man didn't have a beard to go with it.

"Wow. Unless you're going for the Shaggy look, you really need a haircut."

_Shaggy_, Evan finger spelled with a questioning look.

"Yeah. You know, 'Scooby-Doo'? Shaggy and Scooby? Probably the most well known fictional characters in America?"

Evan did nothing more than blink.

Tony sighed, wondering how much work was going to be involved in updating Evan in cinematic history. "Do you want a haircut or not?"

The silent man reached up to tug one of his errant dark locks in front of his eyes. Seeing that it reached down to his nose, Evan huffed and nodded his consent. _Good_, Evan questioned suspiciously.

Tony quickly led Evan to the kitchen and sat him down in a chair. The prospect of getting to touch the other man was making him admittedly excited...but, not in a pervy way. "Are you kidding, I'm the best. I used to cut all of my classmates' hair. Of course, I was cheaper than a barber, so they didn't complain either way."

_Convincing_, Evan rolled his eyes.

He winked and went to the bathroom to get his grooming kit and towels. When he got back, he gave what he hoped to be a reassuring smile and circled around Evan, throwing a towel around his shoulders. He hesitantly ran his fingers through the thick strands and fought down the giddy feeling bubbling up somewhere within his chest. Wetting the comb, he started working out the knots and getting the strands heavy enough with water to cut. After the comb got caught on the black band around Evan's neck for the fourth time, however, Tony sighed.

"Uh, could you take your necklace thing off? It's kind of getting in the way," he said with an apologetic wince.

Evan gave him an unreadable look and hesitated, before reaching up under his hair to unravel the cloth like material. When the ribbon fluttered down onto Evan's lap, exposing his throat, Tony got one of his sought after answers. A three inch long, dark pink gash ran across the front of Evan's neck, cutting into his Adam's apple. The rush of anger that surged through him took Tony by surprise, and he leaned against the kitchen table for support.

_Accident_, Evan explained.

Tony nodded, accepting the lie. He was tempted to remind Evan that he's been a cop for his entire adult life, that he knew intentional wounds when he saw them. One revelation at a time though, he told himself.

Instead, he picked up the comb again and resumed running it through Evan's hair, talking about any mundane topic that came to mind. Eventually, Evan relaxed again.

"So," he said about half way through, after steeling his nerves. "I don't know if you and Gibbs have any plans or something, but I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me tomorrow?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Evan smile.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: This whole thing was written in just the past few hours (from 3 to 6 AM), so if there are any mistakes, it's because I've gone cross-eyed.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

"I've gone insane, Abby!"

Abby shrugged. "Your psych evaluation says you're in the clear."

"There's no other explanation," he continued, oblivious to Abby's snark and pacing the length of her lab. "Seriously, what am I doing? I have no idea, Abby—I have no idea what I am doing. I mean, why did I even think I could do this? I've never done it before, I've never _wanted_ to do it before—but the point is, I've never done it. I can't do it. That's it, I can't do it."

Obviously hearing the finality in his voice, Abby spoke up before he began another rant. "Tony, what are you doing?"

"Exactly! You don't even know what I'm doing! I don't know what I'm doing! What kind of person says they'll do something when they have no idea how to do it? A crazy person, Abby! I," he waved his hands about emphatically, "am insane!"

"Tony!" Abby grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to sit on the stool by her computers. "I don't know what you're doing because all you did was storm in here and start yelling about something that you've done but shouldn't have done, or said you would do but can't. Now, what are you talking about?"

Tony closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the tension headache he felt coming. "Evan came over and I gave him a hair cut and asked him out to dinner." He forced the sentence out in one long, rapid breath and opened an eye to see Abby's confused expression.

When she saw that he obviously wasn't willing to explain the jumbled mess that had come from his mouth, she sighed and leaned around him to reach her computer. A few taps on her keyboard brought up what looked like one of her voice analysis programs and he heard his rushed sentence played back over the speakers.

"You have a recorder in your lab?" He asked in confusion, looking around her desk for the device.

She gave him a look that clearly read 'Duh' and turned her attention back to the computer. A few clicks and Tony was treated to his voice once more, only deeper, slower, and very comprehensible. Abby turned back to him, wide eyed and gleeful. "Be still my audio analysis, you did not!"

Tony whined low in his throat and covered his face with his hands.

"You did!" She crowed.

"Abby, I have no idea what to do," he said in an admittedly pathetic voice.

She rolled her eyes upwards. "Yeah, Tony, I got that part."

"He said he wanted to be friends first, so that we didn't rush in to things. And we've only been talking through letters, but that still counts, right? So, we've been friends for three whole months, which means this isn't rushing. I'm not rushing things, right? He wouldn't have said yes if I was rushing. But where do I take him—classy, romantic, or casual? Do I pick him up? Because he lives with my boss, that'd be kind of awkward, you know? What do I wear?"

"Oh Tony, you're such a guy. And you're worrying over nothing, again." She shook her head in pity, before planting her hands on her hips and adopting a stern expression. "Tony, think about it. When was the last date you had?"

Tony dutifully thought about it. "Well, I really don't think Andromeda counts, so...I guess about three or four months ago." Tony started as realization dawned. "Wow. I...wow. I haven't had sex in almost four months?" He sat for a moment and reviewed his memories just to make sure he'd come to the correct conclusion.

"Since you started becoming friends with Evan," Abby added helpfully.

Tony nodded silently, still in shock.

"I'd suggest just proposing now, but I don't think Gibbs would appreciate that."

Elvis interrupted the contemplative silence, knocking Tony out of his stupor. He growled and fished out his singing cell phone, glancing at his display screen to confirm what he already knew. "Good lord, woman, no means no!" He screamed at his phone before silencing Elvis mid-verse.

Abby tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes at him. "I think Madame Director needs to get us a better shrink."

* * *

Talking with Evan, Tony quickly learned, was a lot like playing Charades.

As much as Abby and Anne Bancroft had taught him in the past six months, he was still no where near fluent in ASL and Evan sometimes forgot to sign in slow, simple sentences. Still, working with a man who was more likely to grunt and glare, rather than speak, had made Tony a master at interpreting non-verbal communication.

Out of Evan's long sentence, Tony caught _city_, _romance_,_ duck_, and_ uncle_, and connected the dots. "You were in Paris with Ducky and Gibbs? Please don't tell me you were a fugitive, too."

Evan shook his head with a fond expression that clearly told Tony what Evan thought of the older men's actions. _Was in England_._ Brought them over the river_._ Hid them_.

Tony's eyes widened as he ate the last of his garlic bread. "No," he denied.

The silent man gave a laugh and nodded, sipping his red wine.

"That's how you met Ducky? By smuggling him and Gibbs into England?" Tony signed as he spoke, ignoring the looks they were getting from the other patrons in the restaurant, as he had for the past hour. "How did you do that?"

_Boat_, Evan signed with an expression that questioned Tony's intelligence.

"Yeah, I know with a boat. But how?" He emphasized the question.

Evan shrugged with nonchalance. _Called a favor_.

Tony blinked. "A favor? You had favors when you were twenty? Jeez, I was a frat boy when I was twenty."

The younger man huffed an embarrassed laugh and stared down at the plate of mostly finished alfredo pasta that Tony had ordered for him. Tony took that as his cue to change the subject.

"So, Ducky said that you and Gibbs are related through one of his wives?"

Evan nodded. _First_.

Tony leaned back in his chair in shock. "His first wife. You mean Shannon?"

_Yes_, Evan smiled sadly. _Was fourteen. Something bad was happening in school. I thought I was going to die and wanted to know about my family_.

He couldn't help the snort of laughter that came out. "You thought you were going to die at your British boarding school in the middle of a forest?"

_Was fourteen_, Evan emphasized, rolling his eyes at Tony's sarcasm and his past teenage dramas. _A friend helped me find if I had more family_. _Found an aunt. Sent her a letter_,_ but got one back from uncle instead_.

Tony nodded in understanding. He knew from Evan's letters that his parents had died when he was a baby and that he hadn't gotten along with the aunt and uncle who raised him, very much like Tony's own relationship with his father. Evan would have been fourteen in '94, only a few years after Shannon and Kelly were killed. Gibbs probably would have latched on to the only living connection he had to his wife and daughter.

"So, you only spoke through letters?" He asked.

Evan shook his head, signing as he finished his wine. _Would visit in summer_.

"You didn't come to America until you were seventeen, though, right?"

The silent young man raised an eyebrow as he set down his empty glass, and the expression reminded Tony that Evan hadn't been the one to share that information.

Tony offered a sheepish smile, because hacking in to private files does seem like a strange way to learn about someone when he thinks about it. "McGee's the one who looked you up, not me." Evan's second eyebrow joined the first. "I just listened while he talked."

The waiter, thankfully, chose that moment to interrupt and collect their dishes. "I hope your meals were to your satisfaction," he spoke to Tony, only just remembering to spare Evan a glance.

The man had seen them speaking in sign and obviously came to the conclusion that Evan was deaf, like so many seemed to do. They hadn't bothered to correct him, only sharing a smile and a laugh as he walked away. The way he disregarded Evan, however, was beginning to piss Tony off. "Everything was fine," he said, offering a tight smile.

"And would you be interested in dessert this evening?" The waiter asked, trying to maintain some semblance of propriety by glancing between them as he talked.

_Dessert_, Tony asked Evan.

Evan shook his head. _Only if you want_.

"No thank you," Tony addressed the waiter. If asked, he'd admit to taking some justified pleasure in the uncomfortable expression the man had adopted during their quick, silent conversation.

Evan sent him a knowing look, while the waiter gave a jerky nod and took the plates, leaving their check.

Tony snatched the case away when Evan reached for it. "I'm the one who invited you out to dinner, Evan. It's my treat." He balked when Evan took out enough money to cover his meal and pointedly slid it across the table to Tony with an expression that dared him to argue. It was yet another expression that Tony had seen on his boss one too many times. "Okay, Dutch it is."

He left the money in the pocket of the leather case with the check, only leaving a ten percent tip for the xenophobic little shit, and stood along with Evan. Tony had to physically force himself not to help Evan with his coat, as he usually would with a woman. The doors, however, he figured were fair game. It was only polite, after all. Evan didn't comment, thankfully, other than an appreciative smile. Nor did he comment on Tony walking him to his car.

"So," he started once they were next to Evan's painfully generic Toyota. "I had a really good time tonight." Tony winced once the words left his mouth. Really, could he sound any more like a kid on his first date?

Evan gave a hissing laugh and nodded. _Me too_.

Tony's smile probably looked more like a grimace. "Well, I'm glad I make you laugh, at least. But, you know, I really don't mean to half the time. I swear, I usually am good at this sort of thing. I just get so—"

Evan reached a hand around the back of Tony's neck and pulled his head down, while he leaned up and pressed his lips to Tony's, effectively silencing him. Tony's hands instinctively moved to rest on the other man's hips when he felt slender fingers bury into the short hair on the back of his neck. Evan's lips parted like silk and Tony snaked his tongue inside, accepting the invitation. He explored Evan's mouth, and Evan responded in kind, until air quickly became an issue.

"Wow," he panted once he'd reluctantly parted from Evan. "I usually have to work hard to get that on a first date."

Evan smiled. _Three months was long enough_.

Tony could only nod in agreement.

Evan seemed to wait for Tony to say something more, but when nothing was forth coming, he hesitantly signed, _Good night_.

"Right," Tony said, mentally shaking off his daze. "Yeah, great night." He smiled so wide, he was surprised his lips didn't split from the stretch.

The younger man laughed again and slid into his car when Tony held the door open for him. He gave a small wave, before driving out of the parking lot with Tony watching the whole way.

* * *

"What do you mean you couldn't find anything?"

McGee sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Yes, Tony, you're welcome for working all Sunday, hacking into very confidential foreign government files."

Tony spread his hands in a gesture that begged an explanation. "And yet, you found nothing. You're screwing with our group dynamics here, McNerd."

"Tony, I'm telling you, there are practically no records of this Evan Jameson in the British government. At least, none that I could get at. He has citizenship, but that's it. There's no paper trail before or after." Probie shrugged helplessly, looking honestly put out.

Ziva nodded in agreement. "It is true. Even my contacts in Europe could find no mention of the man. So far as we can see, Evan did not exist until he came to America in 1998. We can find nothing with the information that we have. Is there anything else you know?"

He sat down heavily in his chair and leaned back. Was there anything else he knew? He knew Evan had no memories of his parents and that his relatives were a couple of bastards he really wouldn't mind slapping his cuffs on. He knew that when Evan told a story from his past, he kept things purposefully obscure and only revealed enough detail to make the tale clear. He knew that Evan fondly reminisced on a school that seemed to be a horror film in the making and had an apparently wrongly convicted Godfather, who had passed when Evan was fifteen.

Tony knew that an 'accident' had severed Evan's vocal folds and left him with a three inch scar across his neck. He knew that there was a long, jagged scar on Evan's inner right arm that he tried to hide with long sleeves. He knew Evan had a barely noticeable scar on his left hand that Tony would swear looked like handwriting.

What he could tell them, however, was another matter entirely.

"I know that I trust Gibbs," he told his teammates after a moment. "And Gibbs trusts Evan."


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Sorry, sorry. I really did think I was going to be able to get this up by Tuesday, but then I remembered that I had to turn in a draft for my French project and then I had to deal with some issues with my college scholarships...and etcetera. So, quick Q&A here.

1) A couple of people have asked why this fic is listed as Romance/Drama instead of Romance/Humor. Well, I really don't know why, actually. That was the original intention. I really hadn't meant for this to end up being as funny and cute as it apparently is. But as I was writing, I thought about it and...well, really, I think we've already got a good number of war torn Harry's out there in the world. I dunno. I might change the genre to Romance/Humor. I think it will gradually get a little more dramatic though (*glances at end of chapter inconspicuously*), but I promise to do my best not to lose the humor.

2) Yes, Evan/Harry does speak ASL instead of BSL for a reason. But that's a part of my fragile plot, so you'll just have to wait for the reason. Also, because he has to travel so much, I've imagined Evan/Harry being a bit of a polyglot (i.e., language buff), even though he can't...you know...speak.

3) I should probably mention, I'm not the most PC of people. So, if you see something that you think is a bit offensive...do your best to ignore it, yeah? It's not intended to be offensive.

And since so many requested it, there's a bit more Uncle/Nephew dynamic here and to come.

* * *

Chapter 9

**

* * *

**

**Fav food?** Tony typed the question on his phone and sent it to Evan.

He leaned back in his chair, cell phone in hand, and waited. His co-workers have been complaining that his good mood has turned pathological, but he really couldn't help it. Honestly, he's surprised he hasn't strained something, he's been grinning so hard for so long. But there were no dead bodies that required justice, most of his paper work was finished, and what wasn't could damn well wait, and he hadn't received a call from Andromeda, the princess/constellation/stalker, for almost three whole days.

The best part of the day, of course, was that he'd just had a spectacular lunch with Evan in a nice little Spanish restaurant. There was still too much he didn't know about the silent young man, however, and he'd convinced Evan to dust off his cell phone so they could continue the Q&A they'd started at the diner.

**Toss up between blueberries & chocolate. You?** Evan's message read.

"Tony?"

He grunted in a vaguely questioning fashion, but refused to take his eyes off his phone as he typed. **I like oysters**, he replied and made a mental note to special order some chocolate covered blueberries. It wasn't too early in their relationship for gourmet chocolates, was it?

"Okay, what's wrong with him?" He heard McGee ask.

"He has been texting Evan since he came back. Apparently, his lunch date was 'spectacular.'" Ziva huffed and he could practically hear the air quotes she used, but refused to comment as his phone buzzed once more.

**Ha. You like oysters or the effect they have?**

"Spectacular? He used the word spectacular?" McGee sounded disturbed.

Ziva hummed. "Yes, and then went on to do nothing but sit there and stare at his phone. I believe he is apples."

**Lol. Chocolates are aphrodisiacs too.** Tony continued to pointedly ignore his partners.

"Bananas, Ziva."

"No thank you, McGee."

Probie sighed. "No, Ziva. You mean he's bananas."

**Lol?** Evan's avoidance of most things electrically inclined, Tony had learned during their text sessions, also seemed to include an ignorance of text and computer lingo. Sometimes Tony was half convinced he and Gibbs actually were biologically related.

**Means 'laughing out loud.' Try using shorthand, it's easier.**

"I was under the impression Americans were quite fond of apples. Apple pies and such, yes?" Ziva questioned in a confused tone.

"We are. That's why bananas mean crazy, not apples," McGee explained.

His phone buzzed again. **Lol? I'm mute Tony. None of my laughing is out loud.**

**Don't be a smart ass. Fav song?** Tony sent his reply and finally looked up from the screen to see McGee standing next to Ziva's desk, downing his coffee like it would help stave off the headache that often came with having to explain cultural differences to Ziva. "What the hell are you two talking about?"

Ziva shrugged. "Apparently you are a fruit."

McGee snorted and choked on the coffee, his body convulsing as he tried to quickly cough up the acrid liquid. Tony stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm not opening that can of worms."

"What worms? I am confused," Ziva said, glancing between them.

"So am I," Gibbs said, rounding the corner from behind the stairs. "I don't see any reports on my desk."

His phone buzzed while McGee quickly made his way to his desk, still coughing, and Ziva turned her attention to her computer. Behind the cover of his desk and computer, he inconspicuously opened his message. **Je veux te voir. Heard and loved it during my last assignment. Feel kind of bad for Cuizinier though.**

Tony blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. **You know French?** He sent it and then turned to his computer when Gibbs sent him a look.

When his phone alerted him to another text, he really hoped Gibbs' hearing wasn't good enough to pick up the vibrating. **Know enough. Have to know languages with how much I travel.**

**Your uncle is glaring at me, I think I need to work. Text later.** He flipped his phone closed and tried to look like he was focused on his computer in an attempt to appease his boss. It probably wouldn't make things better if he said he was slacking off to chat up the man's nephew.

"Ziva." They all looked up at Gibbs expectantly. "Fruit is one of the less offensive derogatory terms for a homosexual."

Tony ducked behind his screen to try and smother his laughter at her scandalized look.

* * *

The last restaurant had been Evan's choice, which meant dinner that night was Tony's. It was one of the more upscale places and Evan had no idea where it was. Of course the guy didn't exactly get out much when he was in D.C. and had no idea how to navigate the streets, which left one option for Tony.

The prospect had left him a bit twitchy, but in the end Tony figured the pros out weighed the cons and agreed to pick Evan up at Gibbs' house.

"Come in, DiNozzo," was the response he got when he arrived at the door of the old colonial home.

Tony lowered his fist from where it was poised to knock and looked around, wondering if Gibbs had maybe installed some sort of security system or cameras. It was either that, or Gibbs' hearing had reached omnipotent levels. There was, of course, no security.

He took a deep breath, straightened his spine, pulled his shoulders back, and pushed open the door. He could hear music coming from somewhere in the house and his boss was sitting on the couch in the living room, calmly reading a book that looked to be about war tactics, judging by the cover illustrations, and Tony resolutely ignored the shiver that ran down his spine. Gibbs may have claimed that he was fine with his and Evan's burgeoning relationship, but that didn't keep Tony from feeling like he was seventeen again and meeting Sandra Lee's father before taking her to prom.

"Uh, hey Boss."

Gibbs didn't look up from his book, instead simply raised a hand and pointed over Tony's shoulder at the entry way to the kitchen. Tony turned and made his way to where the music was coming from, before stopping at the doorway to take in the rather bizarre sight. The image of Gibbs and domesticity had never quite meshed in his mind, even with Evan added to the mix. So the sight of the young man at work in the kitchen, mouthing along to an old rock song, head bobbing and hips swaying as he cooked, and knowing that Gibbs was in the next room, lounging with a book, at complete ease... Well, half his mind was entirely too interested in Evan's hips, but the other half was thinking something more along the lines of '...what?'

For one terrifying moment, Tony was sure that Evan had tricked him into coming to dinner here at Gibbs' house. Then he noticed, with no small amount of relief because he was just not ready for that scenario, that the portions Evan was making were too small to feed three.

When Evan dipped his hips once more, the wolf whistle was passing through his lips before he could even think to stop it. Evan started in surprise, almost turning over the pot of vegetables he was stirring, and Tony winced, chancing a look over his shoulder at Gibbs. His boss stared at him with hard, blue eyes, a warning clear and well received by Tony. He gave a nervous smile and hurried into the kitchen and the relative safety that Evan offered. Gibbs wouldn't maim him in front of his nephew, right?

Evan turned down the radio and raised an eyebrow at him. "It was practically instinct, I couldn't help it." Tony offered a sheepish shrug before waving at the food. "What's all this?"

Evan rolled his eyes. _If I do not, uncle will only order out_.

"Gibbs can cook, you know."

_Red meat_, the silent man scoffed.

Tony mentally reviewed all the meals he's shared with his boss and, well, yeah steaks did seem to be about the only thing Gibbs served. "So, did I come too early?"

Evan shook his head. _Just finished. Five minutes_.

He was out of the kitchen and walking up the stairs before Tony could get out a half strangled, "Don't leave me alone."

Tony lingered in the kitchen, noting that Evan's food looked about as good as what they were going to find at 'Passerotto Mio' later, before steeling himself and walking back into the living room. The man was still in the exact same position and Tony suspected Gibbs was enjoying all the squirming he was doing. Tony rocked back and forth on his feet and Gibbs continued to read without so much as twitch.

"Good book, Boss?"

Gibbs tilted the book so that Tony could read the title — Dark Justice: The History of Punishment and Torture.

Tony gulped. "Oh."

After another few tense moments of silence, the man finally seemed to take pity on him. "You expecting me to give you a curfew or something, DiNozzo?"

Yes. "No. No, of course not, Gibbs."

Evan, thankfully, chose that moment to descend the stairs and thoroughly distract Tony with his green button down and very..._very_ slim black slacks. Tony forced his eyes not to stray too far down. There'd be time for that kind of looking when Gibbs wasn't in the same room.

_Ready_, Evan signed and Tony nodded in relief. Evan turned to Gibbs and motioned towards the kitchen before pointedly signing, _Eat_.

"Mother hen," Gibbs muttered, but nodded and waved them off.

_Mother bear_, Evan signed back with a scowl.

Tony choked back a laugh at Gibbs' offended look and made a hasty exit out the front door.

* * *

_You did not_, Evan attempted to sign while clutching his stomach, shaking with laughter.

"I swear, I had no idea she was a he," Tony chuckled and held open the restaurant's door as they made their way outside and began walking to the parking garage.

_You dog_, Evan smirked.

"Hey," Tony playfully glared at Evan. "I may be bisexual, but I am not into transvestites. No offense meant, but I like to know what kind of sex I'm getting."

The young man tilted his head back in what would have been a full out belly laugh and Tony ignored the twinge in his chest at the silence. Evan had calmed down by the time they reached the floor the car was on and looked like he had more to say on the matter. Instead, however, he stopped short, head tilted a bit to the side and staring off to their right.

Just as Tony was about to ask what was wrong, Evan's eyes widened and he grabbed Tony's coat, dragging him behind the classic chevy they'd been standing next to. Before they were fully behind the cover the car offered, a loud, achingly familiar _pop_ sounded and a bullet hit the pavement where they had been standing.

"Shit!" Tony crouched down low behind the car and reached out to Evan with his left hand, pressing him firmly against the metal, while his right grabbed the gun in his ankle holster. He chanced a glance through the car's window, trying to get a fix on the shooter's location. When he felt Evan tapping at his arm, he crouched back down and looked at him questioningly.

_Car_, Evan signed and held out his hand in a 'give me' motion.

Tony nodded and reached into his pocket for the car keys, before passing them over. _Wait for my go_, he signed haphazardly with his gun still in hand.

Evan nodded in understanding, still maintaining a strangely cool and collected demeanor. They were going to have a talk about that later, because so far as Tony knew, Evan shouldn't know how to stay calm while being shot at.

When the next shot took out the car's passenger window, Tony positioned himself over the hood and returned fire. "Go!"

Evan, apparently, had failed to mention how much speed he had packed away in his unassuming figure. Another shot went off the moment Evan leapt from behind the car, but it missed by a good foot, and Tony continued to fire into the shadows were the bullets were coming from. Tony glanced over to see Evan weaving through the maze of cars and was surprised to notice that the young man had already put enough distance between them that Tony could also move. There would be enough time for Evan to have the car going already, by the time Tony made it there.

Firing once more, Tony stood and ran, following Evan's path. Sure enough, once he yanked his car door open, the other man was already pulling out of the parking spot at a dangerous speed. Tony grunted as his body was forced against the passenger side door, when Evan hugged the corner he was taking so tightly, Tony was surprised he didn't hear metal scraping against concrete.

"Where the hell did you learn to drive?" Tony screeched at Evan when he literally smelled burnt rubber.

_Uncle_, Evan signed calmly.

"Both hands on the wheel!" Tony breathed a sigh of relief when they made it out of the parking garage intact, turning on to the main street, where Evan promptly maneuvered the car to the left side of the road. "Son of bitch! Right side, Evan, right!"

Evan sent him a quick apologetic smile, before quickly turning back to the road and the symphony of car horns and squealing tires.

Once they made it to the interstate, and Tony really wasn't sure how much more his heart could handle, he loosened his grip on on the passenger's handle bar and turned to look out the rear window. "I really don't think there's anyone following us, Evan. You can start obeying traffic laws now."

Evan rolled his eyes. _Phone uncle_.

"Yeah, yeah I am." Tony sighed and dug out his cell phone, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this to Gibbs. "So, who do you think they were shooting at, federal agent or foreign diplomat?"


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I know, I'm sorry! I swear, I have been working on this thing that whole time, but this damned chapter was a bitch to get out... It really really didn't want to leave my head. But hey, you get a little treat at the end!

And FYI, in my experience, the kitchen is a very sensual place for Italians, because...you know...food.

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

They made it back to Gibbs' place safely, and in record time, Evan felt the need to point out proudly.

Gibbs had already called Ducky over and they were tag-teamed the moment they stepped through the door. Ducky took Evan off to the side, with a look that promised Tony he was next, and Gibbs rounded on him. Gibbs' eyes had all but turned to ice and were demanding a damned good situational report. Tony knew how Gibbs got when a member of his team was targeted, but that didn't even hold a candle to what Tony saw on his boss's face now. Whoever had shot at Leroy Jethro Gibbs' nephew probably wouldn't survive the week.

"Single shooter, but he kept the shadows, so no ID. Sorry, Boss." Tony winced at the look Gibbs aimed his way. "And...uh," Tony hesitated. Always a mistake with Gibbs.

"Spit it out, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.

"Well, I was thinking about it on the drive over, mostly to keep my life from flashing before my eyes— Oh, and I'm like 99.9 percent certain that nobody followed us. Evan's evasive driving skills are on par with Ziva's, really, and whoever shot at us must have wanted to, you know, live. You really taught him well, Boss. I felt like I was practically in a car with Vin Diesel. The Fast and The Furious, xXx, A Man Apart—an action film can never go wrong with Diesel." Tony chuckled nervously and ignored Evan glaring at him from the couch.

Gibbs took two steps towards him and stared.

Tony lowered his voice to keep the other two men from hearing. "I think Evan was the target." A tick developed in Gibbs' jaw, but he kept silent. Tony took that as his cue to explain. "We took cover behind a Chevy while the guy was shooting. I gave Evan the keys to the car so he could run ahead while I covered him. After he was far enough away, I followed."

"And?"

"The shooter fired at him practically the second Evan started running. When I went to follow, though..." Tony shrugged, grim faced. "No more bullets, Boss."

Gibbs took a few deep, and hopefully calming, breaths, but didn't dispute Tony's theory.

"Not a bump or a bruise, Jethro," Ducky exclaimed brightly.

Evan raised a challenging eyebrow at Gibbs.

Gibbs seemed to just barely be holding back a sigh. "Yeah, I know DiNozzo said you were fine, but it wouldn't be the first time you kept quiet about an injury."

The young man huffed, but didn't comment. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Gibbs questioningly.

Gibbs nodded at him. "It looks like your were probably the target."

Tony looked at his boss in surprise.

Evan didn't seem too concerned, though. He simply rolled his eyes upward in exasperation, before signing, _Figured_.

"You figured?" Tony asked incredulously.

"This would be a good time to take an assignment, Evan," Gibbs said, overriding Tony's question.

Evan stared at his uncle as if he'd suggested he join the FBI. _I am not leaving_, he signed forcefully.

"Tony."

He turned his attention from the stare down the other two men were engaged in, to see Ducky nodding his head towards the kitchen. Reluctantly, he followed the doctor. Once inside, Ducky motioned for him to take a seat, while pulling out his stethoscope and telling Tony to unbutton his shirt.

"Ducky, come on. I told you that we were both fine," he protested, but obliged the doctor's order.

"Yes, I remember. But with your history, it is never remiss to take precautions. Now be quiet."

Cowed, Tony kept silent and instead listened for the argument going on in the next room.

"Yeah, you've fought before, but this has nothing to do with that," Gibbs' slightly raised voice came from the living room.

There was silence, where Evan was obviously speaking, before Gibbs snorted derisively. "Trust me, guns are a lot faster than what they used."

More silence, then Gibbs' indignant, "I know your trained, I'm the one who damn well helped train you. This is different."

Tony waited, but there were no more noises coming. He leaned back in his chair, ignoring Ducky's annoyed muttering, trying to see through the doorway and catch a glimpse of the other two men. Given the tempers both men possessed, it was entirely possible one was strangling the other.

"They're still fighting," Ducky assured him. "Just silently."

Tony raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Arguing with Evan always gives Jethro a headache and yelling certainly doesn't help it," Ducky explained, before finally declaring him healthy.

Tony nodded in understanding as he buttoned his shirt. "So, who do you think will win?"

"Evan," Ducky said without a second of hesitation. He looked at Tony and chuckled. "You should probably get used to Evan winning arguments, as well."

Before Tony could comment, a smug Evan and an annoyed Gibbs came into the kitchen. "DiNozzo!" Tony jumped up from his seat and Gibbs jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Evan. "You stick to his side like your glued to him, got it?"

"Got it, Boss," Tony said, then waggled his eyebrows at Evan suggestively when Gibbs turned away from him.

The answering flush was well worth the risk.

"This is your spare," Gibbs said, indicating the gun that had already been stuck in a plastic bag for Abby. It wasn't really a question, but Tony nodded anyway. Gibbs went to the rather out of place cookie jar on the kitchen counter and reached inside, withdrawing a gun and handing it to Tony. "Take this until you get to your apartment. Once you have your piece, give mine to Evan."

"Uh," Tony glanced at Evan uncertainly.

_I can shoot_, he assured Tony.

Gibbs' face didn't allow much room for discussion, so Tony just nodded.

Ducky packed up his medical kit and bid them all farewell, while Gibbs called Ziva and McGee, who had been ordered to the Navy Yard to get the crime scene equipment. Gibbs relayed the directions to the parking garage that Tony gave, before heading off himself. Tony sat in the kitchen, waiting while Evan went upstairs to pack an overnight bag and contact his boss, wondering how the hell their romantic dinner had turned into this.

Soon enough, he was carefully leading Evan outside and to the car, deftly plucking his keys from Evan's hand.

"You are never getting behind the wheel of my car again."

* * *

The Creeper grabbed the last adult, yanking him upwards forcefully and taking him who the hell knew where, leaving the bus full of terrified teenagers. Thumping was heard as the monstrous beast moved about on the school bus's metal roof and the kids cowered in fear. They attempted to protect themselves with the bus's flimsy windows, locking them closed, before crouching to the floor in a failed attempt to hide from the Creeper's searching eyes. The girls shrieked when the demon was spotted, hanging upside-down outside the bus's emergency exit door, staring hungrily at them.

Tony felt Evan tapping his arm and looked over at him.

_Hat stays on_, Evan signed looking confused. _How_, he questioned.

Tony furrowed his brow, his eyes flicking back and forth between the movie playing on his television and Evan. "How does his hat stay on?"

Evan nodded seriously.

Tony resisted the urge to groan. "Evan, this is Jeepers Creepers 2, what is sure to be an American horror classic in another decade or two and you're asking about his—" He stopped and watched as the Creeper tilted his head backwards to lick the window, leaving a trail of slime, still upside-down and hat still firmly in place. "Huh. I've never thought about that. How does it stay on? Especially with all that flying around he does."

Evan waved at the television in a 'You see?' fashion and continued to look at him curiously.

Tony shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's one of his demonic powers?" He adopted a deep, faux menacing voice. "Behold my ominous wide brim hat. It never leaves my head."

He reveled in the hissing laugh he got out of the silent young man.

* * *

McGee and Ziva looked haggard from working the crime scene all night and sleeping at the office. It almost made Tony feel bad about being able to spend a quiet night watching movies with Evan, while they tried to figure out who had tried to kill them. Almost.

The day was alternately spent working on the miniscule leads they had and trying to keep an ever curious Evan away from their very expensive electronic equipment. Well, that and keeping their boss from blowing a gasket from their lack of progress, a task which ultimately fell upon the only person he was least likely to kill at this point.

_Not their fault_, Evan signed calmly. _I have no enemies_.

Gibbs looked at his nephew incredulously. "The hell you don't."

Evan rolled his eyes. _Not here_, he clarified.

"I need more coffee," GIbbs growled, stalking off to the elevators.

Evan heaved an exasperated sigh, but followed his uncle.

Once they heard the comforting _ding_ of the elevator, Tony, McGee, and Ziva collectively released a breath of relief.

"Will someone please tell me how we're supposed to look for the enemies of a man we know nothing about?" McGee hissed, as if Gibbs was going to come around the corner any second.

The other two both turned and looked at him expectantly.

"What?"

"You are his boyfriend, are you not?" Ziva raised an eyebrow at him.

Tony did his best to ignore the fluttering in his belly at the B word. "Yeah, but we try to avoid talking shop. I don't mention cases and he doesn't mention his assignments."

"Well, his job didn't have to be the reason someone wanted to kill him, right? What about any problems he's had locally?" McGee asked desperately.

"McGee, he comes here for vacation. He doesn't really do anything but hang out with Gibbs and Ducky for a couple of weeks."

"That's his idea of a vacation?"

Tony shrugged. "Apparently he gets enough excitement without having to go look for it." He stared at the case file on his computer labeled with Evan's name. "I'm starting to see what Ducky meant."

"Is this not supposed to be a case for local law enforcement?" Ziva asked with a sigh. "Evan is an American citizen, yes?"

"Gibbs convinced the director to fight for jurisdiction because I was present and there's no actual proof that I wasn't the target," Tony said.

Ziva hummed thoughtfully. "Are we certain this was not an attack on you? Perhaps they were simply a bad shot?"

Tony rubbed the back of his neck in a unsuccessful attempt to relieve some of his tension. Honestly, he was more comfortable with the thought of being a target himself, rather than Evan. "Yeah, maybe. Hey Probie, you've still got my old suspect list, right?"

McGee moaned and his head hit his desk with a painful sounding _thump_.

* * *

Tony came up behind Evan and leaned over his shoulder to take an appreciative sniff of the orecchiette carbonara. He was glad he'd let Evan convince him to stop for groceries.

"Mmm. Where did you learn to cook?"

Evan switched hands to stir with his left and sign with his right. _All over_.

He reached around the other man to snatch a hot mushroom straight from the pan and pop it in his mouth. His yelp of pain quickly turned into a moan as the taste seeped into his slightly scorched tongue. Evan slapped his hand away when he went in for seconds. "Gibbs gets to eat like this all the time? Boss man's been holding out," Tony complained.

Evan huffed a laugh. _Like cooking_. _Want to thank you_, he signed after covering the dish and setting the stove to low.

"Thank me?"

Evan leaned against the counter and shrugged. _You let me stay while uncle works_. _You protect me_.

Tony laughed. "From what I've seen, you can protect yourself, Evan. I should be thanking you. You had me behind that car before I even knew there was a shooter."

He took a step towards Evan, coming in close, and pushing him against the counter. Tony leaned in and pressed his lips to Evan's closed mouth. He licked at the seam of Evan's lips, humming in a pleased manner when they parted for him, and surged on with his tongue, eagerly exploring the younger man's mouth.

One of Evan's hands moved up to cup his jaw, tracing the bone upwards to tease the sensitive skin behind his ear, while the other stroked his side. Tony wrapped his arms around Evan's waist, his hands resting at the small dip of his back. His fingers fluttered at the hem of Evan's shirt, before pushing under and tentatively stroking the soft skin. All the while, he carefully moved his tongue against Evan's, tracing each tooth and the roof of his mouth and any other place he could find.

Tony pulled back just a bit after a minute, taking a few deep breaths to replenish his air, before whispering, "Thank you."

Evan smiled against his lips.

And Tony's phone chose that moment to ring.

He stepped back with an annoyed groan and pulled out his cell phone, glancing at the display, before answering. "McGee," he hissed into the phone.

There was silence, before McGee's very uncertain voice came through. "Tony? Uh, we kind of need you guys to come back."

"This better be damned good McDead, or I swear I will shove every one of your collectable light sabers right up your—"

"Did we interrupt something important, DiNozzo?"

He was going to give McGee hell for this. "Uh, no. No, nothing important, Boss." Tony caught the narrow eyed stare he was getting from Evan and winced. "I mean, yes, it was important. But, nothing is more important than Evan's safety..." He finished hesitantly.

"Good boy," Gibbs said the same time Evan reached up and patted him on the head.

He knew Abby claimed Gibbs was psychic, but this was pushing it.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: You know how I know I'm drunk? All the letters on my keyboard shift about an inch to the left.

I wrote nearly a whole chapter last night, after five cups of my nana's _very_ Irish eggnog. I woke up this morning, with a pounding headache, and turned on my computer, eager to see what progress I'd made the night before. Once I opened the document, however, I promptly went (as Gibbs would say) "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?" Or rather, as I'd written it last night, "Ejodlru Ysmhp Gpcytpy?"

My drunken rambling did provide some inspiration, however, and thus this chapter came about. Blame it on the eggnog.

Also, *points at chapter accusingly* this is why the genre was originally Romance/Drama. ...Damn it, should I change it again?

PS - I suck at the smut, so shut up, you get none. Use your imagination. If it makes you feel better, I'm already planning a companion one-shot or two for when this is finished. One of them might end up with something steamy...

PPS - Kudos to the anonymous 'web' who guessed the stalker.

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

Tony was still grumbling about his dinner, or lack there of, when they exited the elevator.

Because if Gibbs was calling them back to the office, that meant take-out food and sleeping at the desk. Well, Evan will probably be set up with a nice little futon that Tony won't be allowed to share.

Not that they've shared a bed yet, of course. Tony was nothing but a perfect gentleman last night and took the couch, an arrangement which had nothing to do with Tony's rather justified paranoia. And if he woke up with his gun steadily aimed at the front door and a very bemused Evan leaning over the back of the couch, staring at him...well, Gibbs would probably approve.

Either way, Tony was certain his orecchiette carbonara was going to grow cold in his refrigerator and he wasn't going to be able to have a single bite any time soon. Evan was as unsympathetic as his uncle and had done nothing more than roll his eyes while Tony bemoaned his loss.

He was so focused on his lost pasta that it took him a moment to realize that he had walked into Abby's lab alone and that everyone was staring over his shoulder. Tony turned and saw Evan lingering at the doorway, staring at the plethora of blinking and beeping machinery, eyes wide with some cross between childish awe and utter terror. Looking back, he saw that Abby and McGee were regarding Evan warily, as if he were a walking computer virus. Abby looked particularly twitchy, glancing about at her 'babies' in concern. McGee must have shared the story of the battle of wills between Evan and the plasma screen in the office that took place earlier that day.

Tony didn't see what the big deal was though. Evan offered to pay for the replacement.

The silent young man peeked his head around the corner and looked at Abby questioningly.

She bit her lip and gave a mournful sigh. "Okay, you can come in. Just don't stand too close to anything and don't touch my babies," she warned him.

Evan nodded seriously and came to stand behind Tony for added protection. Tony noted he was also aiming a fierce glare at Gibbs, who held a barely noticeable smirk on his face.

"So," McGee began, "we're still working with the garage's security cameras, but it doesn't look like we're going to be able to get an image of the shooter. But Abby had another idea."

The goth tech in question smiled proudly. "I figured, whether they were after you or Evan, chances are they would've been following you guys to look for the right opportunity for the shooting. So, I put all of our juicy gossip sessions to use and McGee and me pulled the security footage from all of your dates with Evan. Oh, and we got some awesome video of your first kiss. Très hot. Want a copy?"

Evan stared at her, wide-eyed, and Tony tried to keep himself from flushing. "Abby!"

"What?"

Tony not quite subtly jerked his head towards Gibbs and bit back a curse at Ziva, who was unsuccessfully attempting to hold back her smirk.

McGee, who had been laughing up until Gibbs glowered at him, got to the point that Abby was supposed to have reached. "Anyway," he said, typing on the computer and bringing up multiple still shots of a dark haired woman. "This lady kept popping up."

"Look familiar, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked in a voice that dared him to confirm the fact that this was all his fault.

Tony stared at the wide screen on Abby's wall and groaned. "Andromeda."

"You are being stalked by the Greek princess?" Ziva laughed and was thoroughly ignored by Tony.

Evan leaned around Tony to raise an eyebrow at Gibbs, who shook his head. "Different Andromeda."

He was surprised that there was a second person in the world named Andromeda and made a mental note to ask Evan about that later. When the other man wasn't staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes and thinned lips, that is. Tony gave Evan his most charming smile and wasn't surprised in the least when it had no effect. "It was one date," he hurriedly explained. "Only dinner, and it was when we were still just friends. She got pissed at me when I didn't want more."

Evan continued to glare.

"I was a little intoxicated and she had on a dress that reminded me of Anjelica Huston, who I've had a crush on since I was seventeen and saw 'Prizzi's Honor'."

Evan looked more confused than angry, so Tony took that as a win. He also needed to remember to subject Evan to a Jack Nicholson marathon sometime soon.

"You were drunk, so you asked out a creepy chick that reminded you of Morticia Addams who, not surprisingly, turned out to be a psychotic stalker?" McGee's snowball of indignation was rolling into an avalanche of disapproval on drunken misadventures.

Gibbs' stare worked about as well as a flamethrower.

"How, exactly, did you not notice you were being stalked by a dangerous woman?" Ziva asked with a raised brow and mocking tone. "You are a federal agent, no?"

"Well, I've been kind of distracted lately, haven't I, Ziva?" Tony chanced a slightly heated glance at Evan, who was oblivious and focused on staring coldly at the image on Abby's screen. "Besides, this woman moved like a ghost. When I met her, she was in three inch heels and barely made a sound. One of the reasons I asked her out, actually."

Ziva's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Because she barely made a sound?"

"No, because she was in three inch heels."

Gibbs, quite possibly, gave Tony a concussion and Evan had to make a hasty retreat when Abby's computers began to flicker.

Tony spent the rest of the day trying to convince Evan that, no, he wasn't interested in his stalker and, yes, he was very attracted to Evan. That second part, of course, had to take place somewhere a bit more private.

* * *

After receiving the warrant to search Andromeda's apartment, but being unable to find the woman herself, a letter was delivered to Tony at the office. Given that Tony would never be able to trust a letter sealed with a kiss again, it was immediately taken to Abby and opened in her vacuum sealed chamber just to be safe.

_"My Dearest Anthony,_

_I understand that I was too forceful during the beginning of our courtship and for that, I apologize. I should have known you were a classic romantic and allowed you to adopt a proper role in our relationship. I believed that if I gave you the space you seemed to desire, you would be able to think properly without the distraction of our affair and come to see me as your intended._

_However, I have witnessed your fraternization with a sodomite and am quite upset. I can forgive you your indiscretions, of course, but you really must rid yourself of the whore. If not, I will have to take control of the situation and I do not wish to sully my hands with such blood._

_Yours for eternity,  
__Andromeda_

_PS — You look quite handsome today."_

Evan was more offended at being called a whore, than at having his life threatened.

* * *

It took another two days before Gibbs allowed any of them to go home for a whole night. Gibbs was probably going to end up sleeping in the office once more, despite Evan's attempts to convince his uncle otherwise, so Tony was put on protection detail again.

Not that he minded.

Tony licked and nipped at Evan's neck, smirking against the pulse point, feeling his rapid heartbeat, before pulling back to take in the sight. The younger man was flushed and panting, his eyes glazed in pleasure and lips parted to release heavy breaths and gasps, and it hit Tony like a sucker punch.

Evan couldn't moan.

He couldn't moan, he couldn't grunt or groan or shout or beg or...he just couldn't. Someone or something — _accident_ — had severed Evan's vocal folds, effectively paralyzing them and taking away his voice before Tony ever got to hear a word. It wasn't that this was some surprise revelation. After all, it was kind of difficult to gloss over the fact that he had to learn another language in order to talk to his crush. And every breathy, hissing laugh he'd dragged from Evan had made Tony's chest ache in equal parts euphoria and longing. It wasn't that in the past months, Tony had been expecting Evan to one day smile at him and miraculously shout 'Gotcha!' It's just that...it had never hit him quite this hard before.

Because, damn it, he wanted to make Evan moan.

And he wondered, rather inappropriately, if Evan happened to be in to fetishes. He hoped not, because it would be a bitch and a half trying to figure out a silent version of a safeword.

Slender fingers undoing his pants quickly brought his mind back to the situation at hand and he looked down at Evan, who was offering him a smile that was half understanding, half coy. "Bedroom?" Tony asked hopefully.

Evan's grin turned sultry and he turned to walk down the hallway, stripping as he went.

When the younger man's body disappeared through the doorway to Tony's bedroom, he shook himself out of his daze and hurriedly kicked off his pants, before following Evan's trail of clothing to his room. And there Evan laid, clothed in nothing but his underwear, stretched across Tony's sheets like he'd belonged there all along, which was something Tony really couldn't dispute.

He took a few slow steps closer to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he did, and Evan hooked a teasing finger under the waistband of his boxers. A shiver ran down Tony's spine when he caught the look of outright mischief and desire on Evan's face.

* * *

"Come on, you have to give me the details!"

Tony shifted the bag in his arms and hit the button for the third floor, completely ignoring Abby's pleas.

"Tony, you can't block me out and you know it."

"I can try."

"I said I was sorry about letting Gibbs see your first kiss."

He tightened his hold on the paper bag containing their lunch and maintained his military silence.

"Okay, fine." Abby nodded at him seriously, before turning to look ahead at the elevator doors and seemingly accept his refusal.

Tony gazed at her suspiciously.

Her lips curved into a half-smirk. "I'll just have to share my theory that you and Evan finally went all the way with Gibbs."

His jaw dropped and he stared at her in horror. "You wouldn't dare."

She smiled at him, her eyes bright and the picture of innocence.

"Alright, fine. Once the case is over, we'll go out to dinner and I'll share," he promised.

She beamed at him and all but bounced out of the elevator when the doors opened.

Tony rolled his eyes upwards in exasperation and followed her out, his eyes immediately seeking out Evan. He felt something instinctual and unwanted coiling in his belly when he couldn't find him. Staying calm, because he was not going to be one of those possessive boyfriends who always had to know where their lover was, Tony casually walked to his desk and set down the food. Probie eagerly joined Abby in rooting through the bag, looking for his lunch, and remaining completely oblivious to Tony's calculating stare.

"Hey McGee?"

McGee held his box of take-out triumphantly and returned Tony's questioning look.

"Where's Evan?" Not with Gibbs and Ziva, Tony knew, because they were out checking the origin site of the IP address Abby had gotten from some rather suspicious emails on Andromeda's computer.

Tony waited, irritated, for McGee to remember where the man he was supposed to be protecting was. Granted, they were in a well guarded federal building, but Tony didn't see much need for leniency. "Oh, he went to get some coffee," McGee answered, waving his hand in the general direction of the break room.

He froze, because either Evan had fed him something rotten for breakfast or his gut was screaming at him. "Evan doesn't drink coffee, McMoron," he hissed at the younger agent.

Probie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he paled dramatically. "Oh. Oh, um... Well, he might have said he was going to the coffee shop..."

Tony's eyes widened and he turned to stare out the window, across the Navy Yard, and unsuccessfully attempted to see beyond that, where the coffee shop lay. "McGee!"

"My ASL sucks, Tony, I'm sorry!"

Abby had dropped her food and was hurriedly typing on her cell phone, hopefully trying to get ahold of Evan.

Tony ran around the desk to his phone and quickly dialed the main gate, before pointing an accusing finger at a terrified and guilty McGee. "How long has he been gone?"

"I-I'm not sure. I- uh, maybe twenty minutes?" McGee stuttered uncertainly.

"Damn it!" He slammed his phone back into its cradle once the guard confirmed that Evan had left the yard. He turned and looked at Abby expectantly.

She shrugged, her eyes wide and bright with apprehension. "He's not responding to my texts."

"Get Gibbs on the phone," Tony barked at McGee over his shoulder as he snatched up his keys and ran to the elevator.

He knew one thing for certain. If Tony didn't find Evan at the coffee shop, there would be nothing left of McGee for Gibbs to chew on.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: So, last time it was eggnog, this time it's cold syrup. For whatever reason, lately I only seem to be able to write if I'm under some sort of influence. I think it's because I can't handle mind-altering substances, like, at all. I mean I get hazy if I take more the two Excedrin in a day. So they make the scenes that play out in my head much more vivid, which obviously helps me put them into words.

You lot better hope I stay sick for another couple of days. You might actually get another chapter out of my delerium.

Also, anyone know a good way to stop biting your lip? It's an insanely bad habit of mine...like I've been doing it for as long as I can remember and have scars on my lips and around my mouth from it. I use Blistex, but all that does is make my lips softer and easier to bite...

**(Come back and read the PS after you've read the first section of the chapter.)**

PS — By now you might have picked up on the fact that I like languages. So, if you don't speak Spanish, Ziva's little flub will need some explaining. The phrase is supposed to be "En cojera de perro y lágrimas de mujer no hay que creer," which roughly translates to "Never believe a limping dog or a crying woman."

What Ziva says is "En cojera de perro y lampiña de mujer no hay que creer." ...Which means "Never believe a limping dog or a hairless woman."

...Yeah, I have no idea where half the stuff in my head comes from...

* * *

Chapter 12

* * *

Evan should come with a warning label—may cause high blood pressure, heart palpitations, and anxiety.

He felt Abby plaster herself across his back and rest her chin on his shoulder. "Don't worry," she murmured comfortingly. "We'll get him back Tony. We have to. I haven't even taken a blood sample yet."

"Abby, Evan's not a science experiment and you're not allowed to use him as a test subject," Tony said warningly. Though it may not have sounded like much of a warning, since his voice was muffled by his folded arms, which lay on his desk.

"Tony," Abby sighed. "I know he's your boyfriend, but it's just not normal when things keep exploding around you. Even Gibbs doesn't break that much stuff."

He moved his hands to clutch his dark locks in frustration and mentally added hair loss to the list of warnings.

They looked up when they heard the elevator bell chime. Gibbs had taken McGee in there almost ten minutes ago. He had no pity for Probie, but ten minutes alone with a very angry and protective Gibbs was not something Tony ever wanted to experience. The doors opened and Gibbs came down the hallway, adopting his drill sergeant strut. McGee followed, subdued and just a shade away from gray.

Ziva and Abby spared McGee a sympathetic look, and Tony a disapproving one when he more or less growled at the younger agent.

"What've we got?" Gibbs barked and they all jumped to attention.

Tony stepped up first. "Signs of a struggle in the alley next to the shop. I found Evan's phone in a trash bin on the corner," he said, holding up an evidence bag with what was left of the crushed device.

"The shop only has a single security camera, which is aimed at the register," Ziva added in an annoyed tone. "They believed, of course, that no one would be stupid enough to attempt something while twenty metres from the entrance of the Navy Yard."

The temperature dropped as Gibbs glared and if any more blood drained from McGee's face, he was going to pass out.

Ever the teacher's pet, Abby eagerly raised her hand and waited for Gibbs' pointed stare to share her success. "I went searching through our perimeter cameras and I think I've got something."

"You think?"

Abby shrugged with a slight frown, before going to McGee's computer and pulling something up on the new plasma screen that had been installed just that morning. She advanced the footage to around the time that Evan had left the Yard and pointed at the far right of the screen. There was a woman with short blonde hair, sitting hunched over at one of the coffee shop's outside tables, seemingly distraught. "This is the best image I was able to get from our cameras. She only lifts her head once and I couldn't get a full image of her face. What I could get, I ran through a recognition program against Andromeda and got a seventy-eight percent match."

"Good enough for me," Gibbs growled.

The video continued and another person joined her, only half of them visible on screen, but Tony recognized the slender black ribbon around their neck. "I can't tell if this is Evan or not—"

"It is," Gibbs and Tony said.

She blinked at them. "Okay... Well, he's obviously speaking with her for a moment, and then," she waved a hand at the plasma and they watched as Evan, who had been writing something on his notepad, disappeared off screen. Andromeda waited a moment, looking behind her where Tony knew the alley to be, before calmly standing and walking away.

"Never believe a limping dog or a hairless woman," Ziva said, nodding sagely.

There was beat of silence, where the others simply couldn't help but stare at the Israeli, before Tony broke. "Okay, I have to ask. What?"

"En cojera de perro y lampiña de mujer no hay que creer," she said simply, as if Tony should know this already.

Tony turned and gave her an incredulous look. "Lágrimas, Ziva. Never trust a crying woman, not—" He paused, before resolutely turning to face the screen. "No, I'm not getting into this with you."

Ziva glared. "There is no pleasing you."

"Well, at least we know it's not just American phrases that you butcher."

"I speak ten languages. Pardon me if I get confused sometimes."

"Lampiña? How does that even make sense to you?"

"None of your damn slang makes sense to me."

They both winced when a sharp smack landed on each of their skulls.

"Shutting up, Boss," Tony muttered, gently massaging the back of his head.

Ziva took her pain with silent dignity, but he saw her flinch when Gibbs reached between them to point the upper right edge of the screen.

"There. Abby, rewind and play it back." She did as he asked. "Stop it."

Looking where Gibbs pointed, Tony squinted and could only just make out the tip of a foot peeking out from around the corner of the building. Two attackers, then. One to grab Evan, while the other waited in the alley. But how the hell did Gibbs see that?

Abby, apparently reading Tony's mind, turned to stare at Gibbs. "How did you...?"

Gibbs, of course, ignored her half question. Instead, he was looking between his watch and the time stamp on the footage, almost anxiously.

"Boss?" Tony questioned.

"There were only three assailants. It's already been a hour and a half. He should have gotten away by now."

"Evan?" Tony asked, looking at the security video and the man in question in confusion.

"Yeah. Last time it only took him an hour," Gibbs muttered with a concerned scowl.

Not concerned because his nephew had been kidnapped in the first place, Tony realized, but because the young man had yet to rescue himself. Tony raised an eyebrow at his boss. "This happen a lot?"

Gibbs grunted, which Tony took as an affirmative. "McGee."

Probie, who up until that point had done his best to remain as silent and still as possible, jumped like a rabbit at a dog's bark. "Yes Boss?"

"You sit your butt in front of that computer," Gibbs said, pointing at McGee's desk. "And you don't move until you get me the names of who that bitch was talking to in those emails. I don't want to show up at another apartment and find out it's being rented by Duke Morrison."

"Yes Boss." McGee did just as he was told, planting himself in his chair and began typing immediately.

Tony mentally added 'Stagecoach' to the ever growing list of movies to introduce Evan to.

* * *

"James Dawkins and Tomas Lebeau. Dawkins is your basic thug for hire. He's been through a couple of FCIs for the past decade, mostly petty crimes and the occasional assault. Lebeau was his cell-mate in Cumberland, doing five years for kidnapping in the second with a firearm. Guess where he lives," McGee stated, bringing up a map of North Potomac next to the mug shots on the plasma.

He zoomed in on an apartment complex and brought up two addresses, one of which Tony recognized as Andromeda's. McGee was glancing between him and Gibbs with barely disguised hope. When Gibbs actually nodded at him, Probie finally relaxed his shoulders, obviously determining he won't be used as a chew toy once more.

"McGee—"

"Look for property listings under all three and their families in the state. On it, Boss."

"Ziva—"

"BOLOs and circulate their pictures. Yes, Gibbs."

"I'm looking for an agent DiNozzo?"

Tony turned along with the others to look at the source of the new voice. His mind was still thinking about the resources he had in Baltimore that might have some ties to Cumberland and the channels he's going to need to go through to start searching for local relatives like he knew Gibbs wanted him to. But when the delivery man strolled up to their desks, holding an innocuous looking brown package, Tony's mind, instead, began to conjure up past abduction cases that he had worked and he immediately feared the worst.

Judging but his boss's subtle change in demeanor, Gibbs' mind had gone to the same dark place as Tony's.

If his voice cracked a bit when he answered the man or his hand shook when he accepted the box, the others didn't mention it. And if he had to sit down at his desk, it definitely wasn't because his knees suddenly decided they wouldn't support his weight. Tony cut the tape with a key and pushed aside the packaging paper and peered inside, well aware of the fact that everyone was waiting for his reaction with bated breath.

When he saw the contents of the box, Tony sagged back into his chair and took a long, deep breath to keep from screaming. He reached in and pulled out the box of gourmet chocolates, holding it up for the others to see. The previously tangible tension eased and Ziva and McGee went back to work without a word.

Gibbs' sharp gaze took in the truffles and Tony's expression and simply gave him an understanding nod before going off to do who the hell knew what, but hopefully it would be something useful.

Tony tossed the box in his top drawer with a scowl and closed it firmly. The mocking decorative cover, depicting lush, plump blueberries and rich, dark chocolate, was more than he could stand.

He'd never quite realized how much it sucked to be on this end of a kidnapping.

* * *

It wasn't until late that evening that things finally progressed.

When Gibbs' desk phone rang, they looked up at him expectantly. Gibbs listened for a moment, before putting the phone back in its cradle and stalking to the elevators. He tossed a quick "Abby's got something," over his shoulder, leaving the them scrambling to catch up to him.

When they walked into the lab, Tony noticed that the music volume was disturbingly low and that Abby was all but glued to her computer.

"So, you know I've had a program running this whole time to track her phone the moment it turns on," she began without looking up from the screen. "So far though, she's been smart, only keeping it on for a couple of seconds, probably to get her contact numbers and stuff. And by 'so far' I mean 'until now,'" she glanced over her shoulder to smirk at them, before quickly turning back to her typing.

"What? Why would she keep it on, knowing we could track her?" Ziva asked, while McGee pulled up a chair to Abby's second computer to help.

"Don't know, don't care. This bitch is mine," Abby muttered.

Gibbs was leaning over Abby's shoulder, watching the computer screens, as if willing them to work faster for Abby. Tony saw him run his thumb along her jaw bone in a silent _that's my girl_ expression that put a prideful and determined grin on her face.

As Ziva and Gibbs watched the screens anxiously, Tony became distracted by a distinct buzzing in his pants. Taking out his cell phone, his eyes widened when he saw one new text message from Andromeda.

**Allo allo. Am ok, tell uncle stop scowling or he'll get wrinkles. In a big empty building by a lake. Come get me?**

"It looks like she's in Woodbridge, somewhere in a—"

"Warehouse district?" Tony hazarded a guess.

Almost as one, the others turned to stare at Tony in confusion. He could sympathize. After over eight hours of nothing but worry and anger, Tony's mind was still somewhat reeling at this turn of events.

He held up his phone as an explanation. "I think Evan's the one using Andromeda's cell. I just got a text."

"What does he say?" Gibbs demanded, not even questioning whether or not it really was Evan.

"Just that he's fine and that he's in a big empty building by a lake." Tony purposefully left out the wrinkles part, because his self-preservation instincts were well intact.

"It's about damn time," Gibbs scowled, accenting his frown lines and making Tony bite his lip. "Go gas the truck and get the equipment," he said to Tony. "I'm going up ahead."

The others looked at Gibbs in confusion and questions ran through Tony's mind. Gibbs couldn't know that this wasn't a trap, that it was in fact Evan who sent the message, that Evan had been able to incapacitate his three attackers and that he wouldn't need someone on his six. But for whatever reason, Gibbs wanted to be the first on the scene and he wanted to be alone, and that sure as hell wasn't going to happen.

"I'm going with you," Tony said, knowing his voice was more authoritative than it should be considering he was talking to his boss.

Tony saw the ambivalence in Gibbs' expression, as he searched Tony's own for something, before he finally got an approved nod.

"It's off of Telegraph and Prince William. It should take you about thirty minutes to get there. I'll send the directions to your GPS," Abby called after them as he and Gibbs all but ran out of her lab.

**We'll be there in 15**, he promised Evan.

* * *

As promised, it took them seventeen minutes to get to the address Abby had sent. Tony knew, because he'd been watching the radio's clock the entire time, partly in anticipation and partly because he'd really rather not know how many close calls they had with the unfortunate drivers that shared the road with them.

Gibbs wove through the shipping trucks and cargo containers as they worked their way down the maze like alleys of the warehouse district, until Tony spotted Andromeda's car. It sported new plates and a fresh paint job, but he had the damn thing seared in his mind from the admittedly obsessive way he'd been going over the security footage Abby had pulled from his and Evan's dates.

The car screeched to a halt next to the building's entrance. Tony and Gibbs exited the car and drew their guns, crouching low and taking cover against the wall. They made their way to the large open doors slowly and quietly, and Tony wasn't sure if he should take the silence in the building as a good sign or not.

Gibbs motioned to Tony and he watched the subtle twitches in his boss's body movements to take his cue on when to move. Tony braced himself, still preparing to see the worst, and they rounded the corner into the building, Gibbs aiming high and Tony aiming low.

What Tony wasn't prepared to see was Evan sitting in a plush chair, legs crossed and twirling some sort of stick with a look of utter boredom upon his face, and three apparently unconscious and restrained bodies a few feet to his left. There was only a single bare bulb directly above Evan's head lighting the area, casting a shadow around him that made the young man look like the hero of some classic noir film, and Tony choked back a semi hysterical laugh.

Evan looked up at their entrance, the wide grin on his face quickly melting into shock and something else when he caught sight of Tony.

Tony saw Gibbs holster his gun with a not quite silent sigh of relief, before quickly making his way to the still wide-eyed Evan. Knowing that Evan was being seen to, Tony chose to play the professional agent and went over the check on their suspects, only half hoping they weren't dead.

As he suspected, Andromeda and her thugs were alive and well. They were almost unnaturally still, however, and Tony wondered how Evan had managed to knock them out, because he couldn't see any bruises.

"What the hell took you so long?" Tony heard Gibbs mutter and turned to see him prodding at Evan's skull, looking for any wounds.

Evan hissed when Gibbs fingers wandered down the back of his neck. Gibbs made Evan tilt his head and Tony caught sight of the small, circular bruise, looking like a rough injection site. Evan pointed at the bruise and signed _Sleep_.

Drugged, Tony mentally corrected and accidentally stepped on Lebeau as he made his way back over to the uncle and nephew.

"Did you..?" Gibbs jerked his head towards the unconscious trio.

Evan seemed to understand the lingering question and nodded, signing something Tony couldn't quite understand. Something about fixing their mind?

"And the chair?" Gibbs remarked with a dry tone and raised eyebrow.

The silent man looked over his shoulder at the very comfortable looking arm chair and shrugged. _Other was too stiff_._ Hurt my back_.

This was reminiscent of when Tony had first begun learning ASL. It was like the other two were speaking in their own language and he could only make sense of the occasional word, but the conversation as a whole was still complete gibberish to him. Tony glanced at the silent and still, yet unharmed, suspects. He looked at the torn rope pooled next to the chair which had obviously been used to tie up Evan, and then at the chair itself, which looked suspiciously like the one he'd seen Gibbs reading in at his house. He looked at the short stature and slight figure of Evan, who was very much free and fine and still holding his stick.

He looked at Gibbs, who seemed completely uneffected by all this, and noticed...yeah, none of this made sense.

"We need to fix this place before Ziva and McGee get here," Gibbs remarked.

There was silence for a moment, before Tony realized they were looking at him, waiting for his response.

"Uh...huh?" He said eloquently.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: This is me, sleep deprived, because my two-year-old and and one-year-old nephews woke me up at seven, after staying up until three hanging out with their father (my big brother).

This is me, sick (again), because with children come germs, of course.

This is me, exhausted, because with toddlers comes an insane amount of energy, but add to it Christmas lights and Santa and...dude... (Like seriously, aren't kids supposed to take naps?)

So, take physical exhaustion, add sleep deprivation, combine with a slight fever of 100F, and stick a little Aerosmith in the background (Dude looks like a lady!) and you get...chapter 13? ...Ominous...

Hope you had some wonderful Nondenominational Winter Holidays and Happy New Year followers of the Gregorian calendar! (Doesn't political correctness just roll off the tongue?)

PS: ...HOLY UNSPECIFIED DEITY! I just checked the story's stats — 386 reviews, 591 favs, 1098 alerts, 89 C2s, and 100,072 hits? Really? I love you guys so much!

* * *

Chapter 13

* * *

Tony had become just as familiar with breaking laws, as upholding them since he started working for Gibbs.

But this? This was Tony staging a crime scene and lying to his teammates.

He snapped a photo of the upturned, old, hard wood chair and the torn rope next it, and moved on, as if there hadn't been a large cushioned chair in its place twenty minutes ago. Tony still hadn't been able to figure out where Evan had hid the damn thing. Or where it had come from in the first place, really. He added that to his list of questions that Evan would be answering later.

On the ground, by the rope, was an old piece of scrap metal, that Tony knew held trace amounts of the rope's fiber and Evan's finger prints. He knew, because he'd been the one to help Evan saw through the rope, while Gibbs took the fun job of adding the appropriate amount of bruises to the suspects that would support the story. Once Evan was finished being checked and treated for his minor abrasions by the EMTs McGee had called to the scene, Tony would take his fabricated statement. They would go back to the office, Gibbs would get a coerced confession and Abby would analyze the planted evidence, and everything would corroborate because nothing but the original crime itself was real.

Tony felt someone staring and looked up, catching Evan's gaze from where he sat at the back of the ambulance, Gibbs at his side, speaking with the paramedics.

He'd turned a blind eye to a lot of things since they'd met. The very curious effect Evan had on electronics, the plentiful and not inconsequential scars, the utter lack of official information and background. For the most part, he hadn't pried for answers, but he had limits. Committing felonies, even if under Gibbs' instructions, damn well ensured him some answers.

He made his way over, while Gibbs sent the EMTs away, much to Evan's obvious relief. "So," he nodded towards their faux crime scene and the cars holding Evan's attackers. "This usually how you guys handle the kidnappers?"

"No. Usually they end up dead."

Tony looked between Evan's nonchalant expression and Gibbs' stony one. "This is where I don't ask how, right?"

Evan gave him a small appreciative smile and nodded.

"Well, okay then," he muttered, rocking a bit on his feet as an awkward silence descended on the three.

Gibbs and Evan stared at one another, apparently conversing through facial twitches, eye contact and a few jerky signs that Tony didn't recognize. If Tony didn't know better, he'd say it reminded him of the silent language that long-time partners developed after so many years in the field together.

After a few moments of quiet — for Tony at least; things may have seemed quite loud to Evan and Gibbs, given the argument they were having — Evan gave a huff and Gibbs looked at Tony. "You're coming over for dinner tonight."

Tony looked at his watch. "It's almost eight."

"Reports can wait."

"The reports can wait?" He blinked, confused. "And the suspects?"

"Can spend the night in holding. You're coming back to mine."

Tony glanced back at Evan, who looked uncomfortable and apprehensive, and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell was going on.

* * *

They were arguing again. About him, Tony was certain.

"It was bound to come to this sooner or later."

He couldn't see Evan's reply, since the younger man had his back to him, but it looked somewhat spastic and came with a hiss of annoyance.

"Well if you would have just called me instead, then we could have avoided this."

Tony tilted his head a bit and caught the words _number_, _forgot_, _bitch_, and _phone_.

"That's why I told you to memorize the damn numbers," Gibbs growled at his nephew, forcefully tossing the empty cartons of take-out in the trash.

Evan threw his hands up in frustration and glared at Gibbs, before signing something that made Gibbs snort in laughter.

"That's DiNozzo's job."

Tony was pretty certain he didn't want to know what Evan had signed.

There were a few more moments of silence, in which they continued their unspoken fight, before turning and stalking back in to the dining room almost in tandem. He would have laughed if they weren't both scowling and glaring and generally looking pretty damn scary. They sat back down at the table, Evan with a defeated slump and Gibbs with a look of resolution.

Tony raised an eyebrow at them. "Story time?"

They shared a look once more and Evan made a vague motion towards his throat.

Gibbs nodded. "You'd probably better. This isn't really something you can expect him to take your word on."

Evan procured the mysterious stick that had disappeared along with the Houdini-like armchair, and Tony was very curious as to where he'd been hiding the thing. He pointed the stick at his neck, much to Tony's confusion, and closed his eyes with a look of concentration. Just as Tony was about to ask what it was Evan was trying to accomplish, the tip of the stick began to glow — yes, _glow_. Tony watched in a twisted fascination as the light wrapped around Evan's throat and seemed to actually sink in to Evan's skin. He was half out of his seat, mind stuttering to a halt with worry and utter bewilderment, when Evan took a few deep rasping breaths.

"Hey," Evan said.

...Evan said?

Evan _said_.

Tony sat back down heavily in his chair, his knees no longer very reliable. "You can talk?"

Evan quirked a weak smile and shook his head. "No, this is only temporary and it takes a lot of energy to keep up."

He stared at Evan, awestruck and completely taken in by the harsh, lilting British accent that sounded like some curious combination of Ducky's and Michael Caine's. Tony hadn't even noticed that Gibbs had left until the man reappeared beside him with a coffee mug of bourbon. He overcame the strange urge to kiss his boss in gratitude and accepted the drink, taking a generous gulp of the burning liquor.

"None for me?" Evan asked his uncle with a disappointed pout.

"No," Gibbs stated plainly, reclaiming his seat. "It'll only make your throat worse. You can have plenty of lemon tea when you turn off the damn spell, though."

Tony valiantly fought down a hysterical giggle. Spell? Really?

He took another long sip from the mug.

Gibbs wouldn't joke about this. Evan probably would. Tony had learned that the younger man had a bit of a twisted sense of humor and a mischief streak a mile long. But Gibbs wouldn't, which meant that either this was real or they were all sharing a very convincing delusion.

He wasn't sure which option he preferred.

"You — uh... You're a...?" He purposefully left the question hanging, not quite sure he could finish the sentence while maintaining his dignity.

"A wizard," Evan nodded seriously.

Gibbs snorted.

Evan glared at his uncle. "I'm not the one who came up with the terms, all right _muggle_."

Tony sympathized with Gibbs. He felt like he'd stepped into one of McGee's computer games. "Wizard? Right... Like, wand waving, abracadabra, bunny out of a hat?"

Evan turned his glare to Tony, while Gibbs carefully hid a smirk behind his hand. "I have never said that word in my life, nor have ever I pulled a rabbit out of anything."

"He does have a wand, though," Gibbs added.

With a look that said he was being put upon, Evan held up the stick and placed it on the table between him and Tony. It, thankfully, didn't start glowing again.

"Can I...?" He jerked his chin down towards the sti— _wand_, glancing at Evan questioningly.

Evan nodded his head in consent. "Be careful."

Tony's brow furrowed at the warning, but he hesitantly reached his hand out towards the sti— wand. Wand, he reminded himself. This was a damned glowing, voice-granting wand. When his hand was barely an inch away from the thing, Tony felt a jolt of electricity surge from his finger-tips and up his arm. He jerked back, almost coming out of his chair, and stared at the innocent looking dark wood in horror. "This is real."

He was grateful Evan didn't take offense to his skepticism. "Quite real, yeah."

"So, your isolated boarding school..." He trailed off, not quite certain he wanted the clarification being offered.

"Was an ancient Scottish castle warded against outside interference and influence."

"And when you said your society was old fashioned..."

"I meant medieval."

"Uh huh. 'Willow' medieval or 'Lord of the Rings' medieval?"

Evan and Gibbs both stared at Tony blankly.

"Right, that's not important." Tony drained the last of the bourbon and closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair while pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to push away the head ache he felt coming. He could handle this. Really, he could. He was the master at adaptation. He'd grown up with a new step-mother for every birthday. He'd gone from privileged rich boy to working his way through college when he left home. He'd changed jobs and cities every two years or so until settling down in D.C.

Finding out that his boyfriend came from a secret society of magic that was stuck in the dark ages? No problem.

"And your job? You're...what? A wizard diplomat?"

Another shared look between nephew and uncle, and Tony was beginning to hate those.

"It gets a little complicated there," Evan reluctantly admitted.

It wasn't complicated already? These two clearly held a different definition than Tony did.

"You have to understand, no one but uncle Jethro knows the whole story and, after we tell you, no one else _can_ know it. Not even Ducky knows who I am, only what I am and where I come from."

Tony felt a sense of trepidation coil in his belly. "What do you mean 'who you are?'"

Gibbs shifted and began to speak with a look of unease that Tony had never seen on the man's face before. "There was a war, started by a megalomaniac bastard, Tom Riddle. Because of Riddle and an ignorant government, Evan played a large role in it from his early teens."

Tony nodded, remembering the obviously condensed version of the insane murderer that had gone after Evan's family from the letters the younger man had written. The war, however, was entirely new.

"Because of Riddle's war, the magical communities in the other countries cut ties with us, in order to avoid his wrath. Due to my role in the war, I became a bit of a figurehead and well known within the magical world. A few years after the final battle, after the government righted itself again, they approached me and asked that I help repair Britain's ties with the other countries. So, yeah, I am more or less a wizard diplomat."

Gibbs cleared his throat impatiently and shot Evan a look.

Evan glared back at him. "I'm getting to it."

"You're stalling."

With a huff, Evan focused on Tony once more and started again. "Like I said, I'm well known in my world. Not everyone was, or is, very fond of me, however." Evan hesitated, running his finger along the black band around his neck in a familiar nervous gesture.

Gibbs picked up, noticing his nephew's wariness. "After his...accident, when he was seventeen, he came here. It was my idea that he should have a few alternate identities, for protection. I pulled some strings and got him settled, got him the right papers, and this became his home."

Alternate identities? Tony looked between the silent Evan and the uncomfortable Gibbs in blatant disbelief. "No."

Evan gave him an apologetic and guilty glance. "I was not born Evan Jameson. I was born and raised as Harry Potter."

He's been in a relationship with someone who's name he hadn't even known. Okay, so maybe this was a problem after all.

There was long, pregnant silence, before Tony cleared his throat and stood. "Right. Well, uh, I'm gonna head home, then."

Ev— Harry looked up at him, surprised. "What? But—"

"All right," Gibbs interrupted. "See you tomorrow, DiNozzo."

Tony nodded in thanks, spared Evan— _Harry_ a tight smile, and headed out of the house and to his car as quickly as possible without running.

"Tony!"

He shivered at the unfamiliar voice saying his name with that too familiar mouth. All the same, he stopped, leaning heavily against his car door. He watched as Evan—Harry?—ran down the steps of Gibbs' porch and to Tony's side. He pressed a hand against the door, as if to keep Tony from entering his car.

"Tony," he said again. "I'm sorry. I am, unbelievably so. But please understand, I have never lied to you. I may have omitted some information, but I've never lied. I _am_ Evan Jameson. Call it split personality or whatever, if you want. I was born Harry and when I work I have to be Harry again, but when I'm here in this town, when I'm with uncle Jethro and Ducky and _you_, I'm Evan."

"Look, I— This is kind of a lot, you know? I mean, first you're just Gibbs' nephew, then you're this enigmatic diplomat, and I was fine with that. Then you're being shot at, and I find out it's because of me, and then you're kidnapped — which, apparently, happens pretty often. Now, you're a wizard with multiple identities and...it's just a lot, okay?" Tony took a deep breath and avoided Evan's gaze. "I just need some space, all right? To process."

_Ok_, Evan signed, taking a few steps back, allowing Tony to climb in to his car without another word.

* * *

Work the next day was awkward, to say the least.

Gibbs acted surprisingly normal to Tony, but was particularly brutal with the suspects. He set a new record in the interrogation rooms. Within five minutes with Gibbs, each of the suspects were spinning a tale that matched the evidence perfectly.

The others had caught on to the tension, but wisely kept quiet.

He waited until Ziva had gone on the lunch run and Gibbs made his fifth coffee trip.

"McGee?" Probie glanced up at him questioningly. "Is there any chance you'd be able to get into Britain's records again?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. I'll have to take another route to make sure I don't get traced, so it'll probably take me longer than last time. Who am I looking for this time?"

"Just do it through my computer and let me know when you're in, would you?"

McGee nodded, looking confused. "Okay, but it'd be easier if I knew—"

"McGee," he snapped.

"No questions. Got it," Probie said, startled.

Tony opened his top drawer and the box of chocolates caught his eye for the millionth time that day. Just as he had each time before, he ignored the tightening in his chest and closed the drawer resolutely, wondering why he didn't just throw the damn box away.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Sincerest apologies for the extreme delay in the posting of this chapter. For the past few months, along with dealing with other family dramas, I've been trying to help my brother detox from his drug addiction, keep his wife from taking his children and leaving him, and trying to make sure he doesn't lose his job and apartment.

Anyway, this is for **popupman**, who's a persistent little bugger, and for all those others who messaged me and kept pushing for another chapter.

And, hey, look! Exposition!

* * *

Chapter 14

* * *

The records for Harry Potter were almost as scarce as the ones for Evan Jameson.

The birth certificate claimed he was born to James Potter and Lily Potter née Evans on the 31st of July in 1980. James and Evans. Well, at least now Tony knew Evan Jameson really did have some base in reality. With such sentimental ties, he couldn't be completely fake, could he?

Little over a year after he was born, Harry Potter was orphaned and subsequently dumped into the care of Petunia Dursley née Evans and her family. For the next ten years, Harry led an unassuming life, got average grades and the odd detention for things like ending up on the roof of his school. Harry was just an ordinary little boy, really, whose hospital records happened to be sporadic at best. Tony also noticed that the not quite rare accusations of neglect were always summarily dismissed.

When he was eleven years old, however, Harry Potter disappeared. There were no more school records, nor medical, nor financial. More telling was the fact that there was no investigation. Looking further back, Tony found that Lily Evans met a similar fate as her son, falling off the grid after her eleventh birthday. Her name only reappeared about a decade later on Harry's birth certificate.

Where Harry and Lily had disappeared after grade school, James Potter simply didn't seem to exist at all. He found a minor Lordship and a seat in Parliament with the name Potter, but neither had been claimed for over thirty years.

Tony tried to blink away the strain in his eyes, lifting them from the computer screen. Looking around the dimly lit bridge, he realized that not even the janitors were around. Glancing at the clock on the screen, he saw it was past three in the morning. He let his head fall to his desk with a muffled groan. It seemed like the more he found out about Evan, the more questions he had.

It was becoming a bit of a pattern.

* * *

After one too many looks from the night shift security, Tony relocated to the morgue. People seemed generally hesitant to enter the area after nightfall. Though, after learning about Evan, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was some credit to those sort of superstitions now.

He was still there, going through files that would be promptly shredded once he was finished, when Ducky came in not too long after sunrise.

"Oh dear," Ducky muttered after a single glance.

Tony offered a tired smile. "Yeah, that sums it up pretty well, Ducky."

Ducky ran his gaze over the scattered empty coffee cups, put up his coat and hat on the rack with a sigh, and walked into the back room of the morgue, muttering under his breath. Tony stared blankly at the mirrored door for a few moments, his over-caffeinated and sleep deprived mind trying to catch up. A minute or so later, the doctor reappeared with a tray holding a teapot, mugs, and fixings.

He watched as Ducky made him a cup with a generous amount of cream and set the mug in front of him. "Here now, this will wake you up without adding much more caffeine to your system. Drink it slow," Ducky warned.

Tony eyed the cup dubiously, before taking a cautious sip while Ducky fixed his own cup. Just as he swallowed the liquid, Tony choked and sputtered as the full effect of the spices hit his palate, burning the back of his throat as if it were liquor. "What the hell is this?"

Ducky smiled at him around his cup, sipping his tea calmly. "Black spiced chai. Only to be used when you're in need of a good pick up."

"Will I still have a stomach lining after?"

"In my expert medical opinion?" Ducky gave a small smirk. "Possibly."

Tony grimaced, but hesitantly raised the cup to his lips once more. The second swallow didn't go down much better than the first, but he was certainly feeling more alert. Which was unfortunate, because the good doctor was clearly waiting for an explanation. When Ducky cleared his throat and pointedly glanced at the mess on his desk, Tony averted his gaze and stared into the toxic tea.

"Well," Ducky raised an expectant eyebrow. "Are you going to make me guess while you hide behind your tea cup, Tony?"

"Evan revealed some," Tony faltered, searching for the right choice of words, "_interesting_ news to me the day before. About how he got away from his kidnappers and about where he came from."

Ducky's eyes lit with comprehension. "Ah. Yes, I can see how such news would be distressing."

"Yeah." Tony rubbed at the bridge of his nose and took another burning sip from his cup. "Evan said that you knew about him. Are you a...?"

"Wizard? Oh goodness, no. No, my father was a squib who married a muggle, but he liked for us to stay in touch with his side of the family."

It may have been the fumes from the tea, but Tony was fairly certain Ducky just said his father was a squid who married a mongrel. Mrs. Mallard may be many things — ancient, forgetful, _delusional_, yes — but, if anything, the woman was a pedigree.

He was doing his best to keep images of Mr. Mallard The Squid out of his mind.

"Now, my great aunt Ilia, she was a witch. Yes, and well studied in divination. She used to drown us in tea simply so she could read the dregs. You know, she once divined that, as a young man, I would have an unfortunate encounter with the hind legs of a centaur." Ducky chuckled ruefully. "I'm displeased to say that was a rather apt prediction. Though really, there was no need for him to have been so rude. I was only curious—"

"Ducky," Tony groaned.

"Hmm?"

"Wizards and witches and centaurs?" He valiantly fought down the 'oh my' that desperately wanted to follow.

"Oh, yes," Ducky muttered, obviously realizing how strange this conversation would be to any sane person. "Quite."

"Yeah. Well, obviously Evan's not really what I expected him to be," he scoffed.

"Isn't he?" Ducky raised a questioning eyebrow. "And what did you expect him to be?"

Tony floundered. "I- I don't know, Duck. _Not_ a wizard?"

"You know, he could have done to you what he did to those thugs. It's called mind magic. In order to keep their world hidden, when normal people are exposed to magic, there is a specialized task force that comes and takes away their memories. He could have taken the memories right from your head and simply given you new ones," Ducky stated conversationally.

Tony stared at him, wide-eyed. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes, Tony, it is, because he didn't. What he did instead was confide in you. He gave you the truth. And let me assure you, my dear boy, where he's from truth is no small matter."

"Ducky, that sounds nice but—"

"Anthony," Ducky sighed and placed his cup down on the desk. "I don't believe you realize what the truth means to him. The world that he was raised in, it was all full of lies. Where he's from, everything is an illusion. Anything could be something else entirely, any_one_ could be someone else."

That's the problem, he wanted to say. Evan was someone else. Tony just hasn't been able to figure out what the difference between Evan and Harry was, yet.

* * *

It took another two painfully normal days — in which Gibbs only smacked him once, Ducky tried to offer him more tea, and Abby became increasingly suspicious — before Tony broke.

Most of Gibbs' house was dark, but he could see a glow coming from the basement window. With a deep breath and a tight grip on the box of chocolates in his hand, Tony walked up the porch steps and entered the house as quietly as he could. He paused in the hallway, listening intently for any noise coming from upstairs. If he was honest with himself, he was half hoping Evan would be asleep.

After a few moments, where Tony could hear nothing but the rasping of Gibbs and his sander down below, he sighed. It looked like he had to resign himself to yet another awkward conversation with his boss. He took his time down the steps, wanting to prolong the inevitable. When he reached the bottom, Gibbs paused in his work to spare Tony only a single glance before continuing, and Tony plopped himself down on the steps sullenly. He tried to loosen the white-knuckled grip he had on the box in his hands, as well as the tension in his shoulders, with little success.

"So," he said when the silence became a bit too much, "Evan...is he...?" He made a vague hand gesture.

"Down somewhere in South America."

Tony blinked. He was actually going to ask if he was sleeping, but South America explained his absence too, he supposed. "When I said I needed space, I meant from here to my apartment, not another continent."

"Yeah, Evan can be kind of dramatic about things," Gibbs shrugged.

He tried to cover the wince by running a hand through his hair. "Evan? You know, Gibbs, now that I know the truth and everything, you can call him by his real name. It doesn't bother me," he lied.

The sander stilled for a moment. Gibbs turned and gave Tony a long look, before he put down the tool and turned to walk to the work bench against the back wall. He took down two mugs, blowing dust out of the cups, and pulled out the bottle of bourbon that was becoming increasingly familiar to Tony. Both mugs were given a splash of liquor, one placed at the end of the wooden table, while the other stayed in front of Gibbs. When Tony didn't move from his seat on the stairs, his boss turned and gave him a pointed stare.

With a mostly silent reluctant sigh, Tony stood and made his way over to Gibbs. He put the box of chocolates down, ignoring Gibbs slightly raised brow, and gripped the mug.

"Did Evan ever say anything about how he got his scar?" Gibbs asked, frank as ever.

Which one, Tony wanted to ask. Evan has a lot of them. But he knew which one Gibbs was talking about. "Uh, no. I only asked him about it once and he just said it was from an accident."

"You know it wasn't, though."

"I know a deliberate cut when I see one," Tony shrugged.

Gibbs nodded and sipped from his mug. "The war ended in the Spring of '98, when Evan was still just seventeen. The fight took a lot out of him and he had to spend a week in a hospital. It happened after he was released, when he was still weak. Still took three of them to hold him down, though," Gibbs smirked.

Tony's grip on the cup became a little tighter. "It was people working for what's his name? That Riddle guy?"

"No. No, it was a few bastards from the good side." His boss scoffed and drained the rest of his bourbon, before pouring himself another helping.

After a few seconds of shock, Tony followed the other's example and drained his drink in one go. He held out the mug for another shot and Gibbs complied.

"They were scared of him," Gibbs continued. "Terrified. There'd been a lot of rumors going around since Evan was a kid, about him going dark. They were grateful that he'd saved their asses, that a seventeen-year-old _child_ had done what none of them could. But that also made him dangerous and they didn't want someone trying to take Riddle's place. So, they took his voice."

Gibbs' jaw was clenched painfully tight and he was staring heatedly into the dark liquid in his cup. Tony imagined the elder man was thinking of what it would be like to put a .308 Lapua in the skulls of Evan's offenders. The vision helped to somewhat cool the anger roiling in Tony's gut.

"Why—" Tony stopped and tried to clear the hoarseness out of his throat. "Why his voice?"

His boss shrugged and finished off his second cup. "All I know, is that most people need two things to do magic, their voice and their wand. Evan's wand is some ancient relic, impossible to destroy or something. So, taking his voice was the next best thing. They used a cursed knife, so the damage couldn't be undone. Held him down and cut the boy's throat," Gibbs muttered, once again adding liquor to both cups.

Tony's over-active mind conjured some unwelcomed images and he joined Gibbs in downing another shot.

"After it happened," Gibbs swallowed and coughed. "After the hospital patched him up as well as they could, he came here. Once we realized it wasn't just the enemy that he had to worry about, I told him he needed to stay hidden. That's when he chose to be Evan Jameson, and that's who he's been since, DiNozzo. Outside of his job, he is Evan," Gibbs said pointedly.

It was another couple of minutes of silence and few more shots, before Tony spoke again. "Hey, Boss, could you teach me some of those signs you two were using earlier?"

Later that night, when Tony was heading for the guest room, he found himself outside the second bedroom he'd never been allowed in before. For the first time since Tony had ever stayed over at Gibbs' house, the door was unlocked. Turning the knob and stepping inside, Tony found a modest room surprisingly decorated in hues of red. He smiled as he took in the messy bed and the scattered odd trinkets.

Tony placed the box of chocolate blueberries on the bed, before turning and going to his own room.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: So, the family drama is, if anything, increasing in frequency. And since I hate leaving things unfinished, I've made this the closing chapter. I know it probably leaves a lot to be desired, but honestly, I like having things open-ended like this. It gives you guys a lot of room to fill in the blanks with your own imagination. Keep in mind, depending how life goes, I may begin a sequel.

If you have any questions about the story, feel free to message or email me. I hope you enjoyed the story, and I'm sorry it was so long in the waiting.

* * *

Chapter 15

* * *

Believe it or not, his epiphany hit him at the sticky counter of a Texaco station.

Tony was staring at the coconut shaped keychain with 'Monty Python' quotes, trying to imagine what elderberries must smell like and waiting for the kid behind the counter to come up with the difficult calculations of one large cup of sludge that might be coffee and twenty bucks of gas.

"What station you at?"

He mentally cringed and wondered what the next generation's grammar will be like in another decade, before giving a wide, fake smile. "Number three, kiddo."

Said kid glowered at him with all the powers of his teenage angst and pointed at his name tag. "It's Michael."

To be fair, the tag did say Michael, printed in neat and bold block letters. Michael had sand colored hair that looked a little greasy and a couple of pimples on his chin that weren't quite hidden by the peach fuzz trying to grow. Michael probably started out as a Mikey, whose hair would have been blonde and who would have had a lisp, judging by the slight hiss in Michael's voice. One day, though, Mikey must have stood up and said his name was Michael and, no, he wasn't a kid anymore, thank you very much. Maybe later, during or after college, or at least when he outgrows the acne, Michael might feel comfortable enough in his skin to be a Mike. But for now, he was Michael and Michael was awkward and unkempt, and that was that.

Tony could relate. During his countless covert assignments, Tony had learned that, sometimes, your name was all you were.

If he was scouting a bar, most of the time, he'd use Tony. Tommy if there's an O' in front of the name, or Troy, if they offer wet T-shirt contests on Wednesdays. Tony's a good guy, just like everyone else there, chugging down beers and bitching about his boss. He was the kind of fellow who's easy to talk to, the kind that you knew would understand that sometimes a man's just got to open fire at a crowded plaza to get his point across.

Other times, he would be a Tonio. Now, Tonio, he was educated, but not quite as smart as you. Tonio could joke with you over mojitos and give you advice on your girlfriend. He can talk shop and stock, but still be one of the guys, and he'd smile obliviously at the work of fiction that you called the company accounts.

DiNozzo? Mr. DiNozzo? He was the kid in the back of the class, that was alternately too quiet and too loud, whose name always had to be called twice. Sometimes, he made his classmates cringe with his sharp eyes, and sometimes, he made them smile with his smooth voice.

He'd been Junior for the better part of his childhood, until his mom died and his dad crawled into the bottle. That's when Anthony made his appearance and out-stubborned the world that dared to try and treat him like a child. Tony didn't really become a Tony until he arrived at Ohio State and regressed his mental age with the help of a fraternity. Unlike Anthony, Tony saw the benefits of balancing an adult's mind with a kid's wonder. And, unlike Junior, Tony was a man—his own man—who could live his life as good or as bad as he liked.

Sometimes, your name was all you were. The key to it, though, was to remember that the face behind the mask never really changed, just shifted a bit.

Tony pushed another button on the keychain, was informed to do something rather improbable with a herring, and hummed thoughtfully. He picked up the keychain and placed it down on the counter next to the tar like beverage. "Thanks Michael," he said sincerely.

Michael looked down at the coconut, scowled fiercely, and sighed, before clearing the cash register and starting over again.

* * *

**Coffee shop?**

Tony stared at the message on his phone for a full minute or two, before finally sending his acceptance. He stood, grabbed his jacket and turned to Gibbs. "Coffee run, Boss?"

Gibbs stared for a moment, searching his face for something, then nodded. He ignored the curious looks from Ziva and McGee, and headed for the elevator. Neither Gibbs or Ducky had warned him that Evan had returned from his two week long absence, so the message had been a surprise. When he'd seen the sender's number, his insides had coiled and tightened in anticipation. And if his hand shook a little when it reached for the ground floor button, well, there was no one else in the elevator to see.

When he got to the coffee shop, he immediately spotted Evan, sitting at one of the outside tables and staring into his tea, with a still steaming cup of coffee placed across from him. Evan looked up at his approach, and the closeted romantic in his mind would swear his heart stopped at the sight of the other man's shy smile and hopeful green eyes. He took a deep breath and walked forward to the empty seat across Evan, noting that it was his favorite hazelnut coffee in the cup in front of him.

Evan signed a tentative greeting and Tony smiled back.

"Hey," he said, half reverently. The ache that had been present in his chest for the past two weeks was gradually lifting and, after too long, Tony felt like he could breathe again. "You know, I didn't mean for you to disappear to South America when I asked for space."

Evan huffed a laugh, looking a bit chastened. _I needed space as well_, he signed.

"It's okay, I get it," Tony shrugged.

The other man nodded, one corner of his lips quirked upwards hesitantly, but he still shifted uncomfortably.

Tony cleared his throat a bit nervously. "I mean, I really do get it..._Evan_," he stressed the name.

Evan stared at Tony, searching his face much like Gibbs had just moments ago, before his shoulders slumped and he relaxed back into his chair, letting out a hissing laugh. Tony laughed with him, as all the weeks' worth of tension dissipated, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss the younger man.

"Oh." Tony leaned back to dig in his pocket for the keychain he'd been carrying with him for the past few days. "Here. I got you a little something," he said, sliding it across the table to Evan, who took it curiously.

Evan read the phrases on the package with a raised eyebrow and pushed the top button. "Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?" He stared at the coconut, blinked, then looked back up at Tony with an expression of complete confusion.

"They're quotes from a comedy show, 'Monty Python.' It's funnier when you hear them in context."

"I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of Elderberries," said the keychain. Evan looked doubtful.

"Okay, they still don't make much sense, even in context, but they really are funny," Tony promised him. "Don't worry though. 'Monty Python' is something that you have to work up to, so we'll start with some older and simpler movies first. I've got a whole list worked out for you," he said with an excited smile.

The other man hesitated, averting his gaze. _You expect me to be here for long_, he signed questioningly.

The ache in his chest flared up and he coughed to rid himself of the lump in his throat. "Well, I... Yeah, I'm hoping you will be," he hedged with what he prayed was a charming look.

Evan's fingers twitched and his brow furrowed in a familiar expression, that told Tony he was trying to figure out how to sign something simply for Tony's meager Sign Language skills. Giving up, Evan reached into his pocket for his pen and pad, and scribbled something down. He paused, his hand stalled on the paper, before he finished and decisively slid the notebook over to Tony.

'There's a position as an American liaison open at work,' he read.

Tony looked back up at Evan, who was staring at him intently once again. "Have you applied for it?"

_Should I_, he asked pointedly.

Finally giving in to the urge, Tony leaned over the table and Evan met him half way. He couldn't help but sigh into the kiss, as he fully realized how much he'd missed all the small, intimate touches he'd grown accustomed to during their courtship. "Yeah," Tony whispered against Evan's lips. "I really think you should."

Evan smiled and Tony was certain that the moment was perfection. That was, until he saw Evan's eyes widen at something over Tony's shoulder, and he heard an all too familiar squeal of joy, followed by the click of a camera.

Tony whirled around to see the Troublesome Trio, and yes, they did deserve the capital T's. They were seated at a table that was just out of Tony's peripheral vision and hidden from Evan's sight by a post office box. Clearly, Ziva had chosen it. Said Mossad stealth assassin was smirking at them in her usual evil way, while Abby snapped pictures like a born paparazzo and McGee tried to hide his steadily reddening face behind a newspaper.

"Aww, they got past their first fight," Abby cooed, as she continued to click her camera with lightning reflexes.

"So, this is the stage in their relationship where they 'kiss and make out,' yes?" Ziva asked, as if discussing the mating habits of an aardvark.

McGee's face grew a bit redder and he hunched farther behind the paper, until only his tomato-colored forehead could be seen. "Make up, Ziva!"

"They wear make-up, as well?"

Abby made a strangled noise in the back of her throat and stared at Tony with the widest, brightest eyes she could muster.

"No," he said flatly. Abby deflated and he turned back around in his seat towards Evan, who was grinning and shaking slightly from suppressed laughter. "Any chance I could convince you to use that stick of yours and make them disappear?" He mumbled under his breath.

"We are the Knights Who Say...Ni!" Proclaimed Evan's coconut.

"I'm going to regret that thing, aren't I?" He asked, pointing to the keychain accusingly.

"Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem."

Tony groaned and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you can say that again."

* * *

Evan nipped and licked along his jaw teasingly, before he dived in for a deep kiss.

Tony hummed against his lips indulgently, before reaching around Evan to grab the popcorn off the counter and turned back towards the living room. "You're not getting out of this," he called over his shoulder as he walked. "I put too much thought into picking out your first movies. This marathon's happening, so just sit your butt down and enjoy it."

He heard Evan huff, before light footsteps followed after him. Evan plopped himself down on the couch and grabbed his box of chocolate blueberries, stuffing a handfull in his mouth with a pout, no doubt dreading having to sit still for longer than half an hour. Tony rolled his eyes as he set the popcorn on the table with the other snacks and drinks, dimmed the lights, and made sure everything was comfortable. The other man smacked his hands away when he tried to fluff the couch's pillows, giving him a pointed glare.

"All right, all right," Tony mumbled. Fluffing the pillows probably was over doing it a bit, but he wanted everything to be perfect for Evan's first movie.

Settling into the cushions next to his lover, Tony grabbed the remote and hit play.

Tony kept an eye on Evan's expression as the movie started, and was surprised that he lasted nearly five minutes in before there was tap on his arm. He turned his head towards Evan with a raised eyebrow. Evan brought his hand up to his ear and shook it outwards with a questioning look.

"This is the first 'Wizard of Oz' movie," Tony explained. "No one was allowed to talk in the film, because it was made before they learned how to record sound with the picture. That's why there's no noise."

Evan glanced between him and the TV with a look of utter fascination, and Tony smiled.

_Now quiet_, he signed. _Look_.

Evan smiled back, before turning towards the screen again, pushing himself more firmly into Tony's side and leaning into him contently.

Now this, Tony thought, really was about as close to perfection as there could ever be. Honestly, he didn't even care that Abby had posted pictures of his and Evan's first 'make up' kiss on her website.

...Well, as long as Gibbs never saw it.


End file.
